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 Jordan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 Mexico City and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
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 Brass Construction to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stiv Bators,
Popol Vuh,
Deakin,
B.T. Express,
Fat Boys,
Pylon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Howard Jones,
Outsiders,
Goldenarms,
Monks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Pop Group,
the Slits,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Juan Atkins,
the Soft Cell,
Simply Red,
David McCallum,
Gang of Four,
The Detroit Cobras,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bad Manners,
Massinfluence,
New York Dolls,
The Trojans,
Alton Ellis,
The Walker Brothers,
Y Pants,
Eli Mardock,
The Beau Brummels,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Section 25,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The United States of America,
Kerri Chandler,
Arcadia,
The Smiths,
Flash Fearless,
The Sound,
Theoretical Girls,
The Raincoats,
Subhumans,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Fania All-Stars,
Glenn Branca,
Marmalade,
Ohio Players,
Andrew Hill,
Roxette,
Duran Duran,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rakim,
Surgeon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Slick Rick,
Roger Hodgson,
Jeru the Damaja,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.