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 Kazakhstan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Young Rascals to the rock 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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
The Pretty Things,
Scratch Acid,
X-101,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Con Funk Shun,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Metal Thangz,
Jacques Brel,
The Gun Club,
The Misunderstood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Interpol,
Organ,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Visage,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Foxx,
Oblivians,
Circle Jerks,
Ornette Coleman,
Marcia Griffiths,
Crime,
Swans,
Chris Corsano,
Sound Behaviour,
John Coltrane,
Babytalk,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Byrd,
the Soft Cell,
Lalo Schifrin,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fat Boys,
La Düsseldorf,
Brand Nubian,
Agent Orange,
The Buckinghams,
Jeru the Damaja,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Joe Finger,
CMW,
Ultra Naté,
James White and The Blacks,
PIL,
The Star Department,
The United States of America,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ultravox,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers,
The Human League,
The Seeds,
Suburban Knight,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Gladiators,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.