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 Gabon and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the 808 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 Roxy Music to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rosa Yemen,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Gories,
Warsaw,
The Raincoats,
The Leaves,
Shuggie Otis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Khruangbin,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Beau Brummels,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Piero Umiliani,
Joey Negro,
Harry Pussy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minutemen,
Tim Buckley,
Morten Harket,
Donny Hathaway,
The Monks,
Marine Girls,
Ornette Coleman,
EPMD,
Second Layer,
Pierre Henry,
Motorama,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Howard Jones,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gap Band,
Icehouse,
Eddi Front,
One Last Wish,
the Normal,
The Saints,
Sixth Finger,
Gong,
Cybotron,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Dead C,
New York Dolls,
Visage,
Aural Exciters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dennis Brown,
Japan,
The Neon Judgement,
Derrick May,
Jeff Lynne,
Supertramp,
Al Stewart,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Tremeloes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Subhumans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.