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 Brunei and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Make Up to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eden Ahbez,
Severed Heads,
Scan 7,
Bauhaus,
Pulsallama,
The Five Americans,
Royal Trux,
X-Ray Spex,
Morten Harket,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Leaves,
The Mummies,
Terry Callier,
Matthew Halsall,
Arthur Verocai,
The Last Poets,
The Blues Magoos,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marc Almond,
Procol Harum,
Zapp,
Reagan Youth,
Second Layer,
The Fugs,
the Swans,
The Gun Club,
Depeche Mode,
Section 25,
Roxy Music,
Visage,
Mr. Review,
the Human League,
Nils Olav,
Jerry's Kids,
Mad Mike,
Kaleidoscope,
The Pretty Things,
Cal Tjader,
Byron Stingily,
Pierre Henry,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Groovy Waters,
Joyce Sims,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Country Teasers,
E-Dancer,
Prince Buster,
Crispy Ambulance,
Organ,
Skarface,
PIL,
Ituana,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cymande,
Urselle,
The Buckinghams,
Banda Bassotti,
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.