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 Denmark and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 The Names to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Bar-Kays,
Cameo,
The New Christs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Quando Quango,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Walker Brothers,
Danielle Patucci,
Malaria!,
Jeff Mills,
Thee Headcoats,
The Kinks,
Guru Guru,
Grey Daturas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Pretty Things,
The Divine Comedy,
The Cowsills,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Soulsonic Force,
The Cramps,
Donald Byrd,
Niagra,
Faraquet,
Section 25,
The Black Dice,
Ronan,
Duran Duran,
Crispy Ambulance,
Carl Craig,
Al Stewart,
Camberwell Now,
Sparks,
Cymande,
Throbbing Gristle,
Suburban Knight,
Siglo XX,
Slave,
Rakim,
Symarip,
Saccharine Trust,
L. Decosne,
Parry Music,
MC5,
Brass Construction,
Simply Red,
Tropical Tobacco,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Vogues,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
UT,
Arthur Verocai,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eden Ahbez,
Can,
The Offenders,
John Coltrane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Remains,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.