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 Belize and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Isaac Hayes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog 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?
Babytalk,
Shuggie Otis,
The Misunderstood,
Camberwell Now,
Grauzone,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Selecter,
Eli Mardock,
Suburban Knight,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Cramps,
Severed Heads,
The Saints,
Mantronix,
Buzzcocks,
Chris Corsano,
The Martian,
The Sonics,
Moebius,
The Stooges,
Curtis Mayfield,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rotary Connection,
Robert Wyatt,
Bill Wells,
Ralphi Rosario,
Brick,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Seeds,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marmalade,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Skaos,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mandrill,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Livin' Joy,
Nirvana,
Erasure,
Newcleus,
Royal Trux,
Steve Hackett,
Von Mondo,
Girls At Our Best!,
Thompson Twins,
Aural Exciters,
The American Breed,
Pierre Henry,
Mission of Burma,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Velvet Underground,
Delon & Dalcan,
Desert Stars,
Brothers Johnson,
Scan 7,
Flamin' Groovies,
DJ Style,
Peter & Gordon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Amon Düül,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.