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 Mozambique and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Tremeloes to the punk 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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Model 500,
Youth Brigade,
Pylon,
Can,
Suburban Knight,
Shuggie Otis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Michelle Simonal,
Black Sheep,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ossler,
Fad Gadget,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Royal Trux,
Zero Boys,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Leonard Cohen,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Funky Four + One,
James White and The Blacks,
Rotary Connection,
Big Daddy Kane,
Negative Approach,
Bill Wells,
The Tremeloes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tom Boy,
Eli Mardock,
Tim Buckley,
Roxy Music,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
June Days,
Radiopuhelimet,
Qualms,
Patti Smith,
Bad Manners,
Jimmy McGriff,
Radio Birdman,
Gichy Dan,
Kayak,
Oneida,
Bootsy Collins,
Erasure,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Alison Limerick,
Traffic Nightmare,
Byron Stingily,
Minor Threat,
Cymande,
Essential Logic,
Yaz,
Drexciya,
Malaria!,
The Selecter,
The Young Rascals,
Hot Snakes,
Barbara Tucker,
Animal Collective,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.