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 Saudi Arabia and from Salvador.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 EPMD to the punk 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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Amazonics,
F. McDonald,
Quando Quango,
H. Thieme,
Section 25,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nik Kershaw,
Severed Heads,
Popol Vuh,
Clear Light,
Anakelly,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Flag,
The Victims,
The Gun Club,
The United States of America,
Icehouse,
X-101,
Marine Girls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sister Nancy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soft Cell,
The J.B.'s,
PIL,
The Vogues,
Mr. Review,
Bush Tetras,
The Happenings,
Young Marble Giants,
Terry Callier,
Wasted Youth,
Alice Coltrane,
Sparks,
The Black Dice,
Aaron Thompson,
Livin' Joy,
Kurtis Blow,
Moby Grape,
Faust,
The Electric Prunes,
Grey Daturas,
Barry Ungar,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sam Rivers,
Gerry Rafferty,
FM Einheit,
Todd Rundgren,
Gichy Dan,
Country Teasers,
Erasure,
Audionom,
Rosa Yemen,
Wally Richardson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Wake,
Nas,
Tomorrow,
Unrelated Segments,
Zero Boys,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.