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 Czech Republic and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Metal Thangz to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Godley & Creme,
Franke,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ituana,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Standells,
John Holt,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Thee Headcoats,
Crispy Ambulance,
Patti Smith,
Masters at Work,
The Techniques,
Average White Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Parry Music,
Eurythmics,
Electric Prunes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rosa Yemen,
Pulsallama,
Aswad,
Camberwell Now,
Roger Hodgson,
Symarip,
Fat Boys,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fall,
D'Angelo,
The Moleskins,
Max Romeo,
Anakelly,
Wings,
The Mummies,
Silicon Teens,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Chris Corsano,
Harmonia,
cv313,
Cybotron,
Tomorrow,
The Seeds,
Nik Kershaw,
Moby Grape,
Sandy B,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Flipper,
The Doors,
The Wake,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kayak,
The Happenings,
Cymande,
Tubeway Army,
Harry Pussy,
Gang Green,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mantronix,
Wire,
Wasted Youth,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.