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 Zimbabwe and from Tehran.
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 Toronto and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Freddie Wadling to the funk 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 Motions. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aural Exciters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Cheater Slicks,
Depeche Mode,
The Victims,
June Days,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Todd Rundgren,
Franke,
Nico,
Magma,
Scion,
Au Pairs,
The Buckinghams,
48th St. Collective,
Organ,
Letta Mbulu,
Vainqueur,
Pussy Galore,
Girls At Our Best!,
Public Enemy,
Juan Atkins,
Roxette,
Deakin,
Monks,
The Fuzztones,
Groovy Waters,
Albert Ayler,
the Normal,
Bluetip,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kerri Chandler,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Dirtbombs,
The New Christs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Fluxion,
Ponytail,
Smog,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Mojo Men,
Sparks,
Eli Mardock,
The Slackers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Isaac Hayes,
Radio Birdman,
Traffic Nightmare,
Soul Sonic Force,
ABBA,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultravox,
The Happenings,
Thee Headcoats,
Tubeway Army,
Bad Manners,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Desert Stars,
the Swans,
Joy Division,
Underground Resistance,
The Standells,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.