Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Marshall Islands and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Neon Judgement to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echospace record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Severed Heads,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eve St. Jones,
The Black Dice,
Ituana,
Bizarre Inc.,
Johnny Clarke,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Colin Newman,
Neil Young,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Angels of Light,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Victims,
Bauhaus,
The Mojo Men,
Wally Richardson,
The Busters,
Eric Dolphy,
Deadbeat,
the Bar-Kays,
The Smoke,
Bobby Sherman,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bill Near,
The Velvet Underground,
Mo-Dettes,
The Moleskins,
Erykah Badu,
The Buckinghams,
Avey Tare,
Connie Case,
The Skatalites,
Nils Olav,
Chris & Cosey,
Von Mondo,
The Searchers,
Hashim,
Skaos,
Black Pus,
Jeff Mills,
Darondo,
Masters at Work,
Dual Sessions,
Joe Smooth,
The Litter,
the Swans,
Henry Cow,
Amazonics,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dead Boys,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Slackers,
Piero Umiliani,
Eric Copeland,
The Five Americans,
Alison Limerick,
Funkadelic,
Ultra Naté,
Bob Dylan,
Skarface,
Radiohead,
Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.