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 Nigeria and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ken Boothe to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
The Gun Club,
Tubeway Army,
Cybotron,
Nik Kershaw,
48th St. Collective,
Ultravox,
The Smiths,
Funkadelic,
World's Most,
Scott Walker,
Pussy Galore,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Robert Görl,
Eric Dolphy,
Todd Terry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Steve Hackett,
Crash Course in Science,
Quadrant,
Angry Samoans,
Camouflage,
OOIOO,
The Velvet Underground,
Kaleidoscope,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Reed,
Blake Baxter,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cecil Taylor,
Rhythm & Sound,
ABC,
Bootsy Collins,
DJ Sneak,
Public Image Ltd.,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deadbeat,
AZ,
Deakin,
Severed Heads,
Country Teasers,
Quantec,
Prince Buster,
Popol Vuh,
Donny Hathaway,
Harry Pussy,
Dark Day,
Bobby Womack,
10cc,
The Star Department,
Brothers Johnson,
Graham Central Station,
Moebius,
These Immortal Souls,
DNA,
E-Dancer,
Television Personalities,
Youth Brigade,
Boz Scaggs,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Misunderstood,
The American Breed,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.