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 New Zealand and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 the Association. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Godley & Creme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Michelle Simonal,
Das Ding,
Bobby Womack,
Joe Finger,
The Offenders,
Sonic Youth,
Intrusion,
Bizarre Inc.,
Audionom,
The Buckinghams,
Morten Harket,
Anthony Braxton,
The Techniques,
Au Pairs,
Slick Rick,
Niagra,
Supertramp,
Sun Ra,
Swell Maps,
Boredoms,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
X-Ray Spex,
Quadrant,
Todd Rundgren,
Gang Green,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Beau Brummels,
Peter and Kerry,
Isaac Hayes,
Alton Ellis,
Toni Rubio,
The Remains,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Vainqueur,
Scrapy,
The Seeds,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Arthur Verocai,
E-Dancer,
June Days,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sandy B,
The Wake,
Brick,
Deakin,
The Blackbyrds,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pussy Galore,
Mo-Dettes,
Minor Threat,
Soft Cell,
Tommy Roe,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Donald Byrd,
Sex Pistols,
Fatback Band,
Ronan,
Panda Bear,
Lucky Dragons,
Camouflage,
Goldenarms,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.