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 Spain and from Accra.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Harry Pussy to the dance 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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Ponytail,
Animal Collective,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lungfish,
Lindisfarne,
Thee Headcoats,
The Saints,
Piero Umiliani,
Aaron Thompson,
Pierre Henry,
The Litter,
Jerry's Kids,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mo-Dettes,
Scientists,
Schoolly D,
Fat Boys,
Ronan,
Wasted Youth,
Scion,
Althea and Donna,
The Gap Band,
Bootsy Collins,
Essential Logic,
Iggy Pop,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Beau Brummels,
Eden Ahbez,
Susan Cadogan,
Wolf Eyes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Soft Machine,
Sarah Menescal,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Excepter,
Lee Hazlewood,
Amon Düül II,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Monolake,
The Dead C,
Donald Byrd,
Pussy Galore,
Buzzcocks,
David Axelrod,
This Heat,
Black Bananas,
Motorama,
Altered Images,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Alice Coltrane,
Stockholm Monsters,
Deadbeat,
Henry Cow,
Rotary Connection,
Lalo Schifrin,
Little Man,
The Evens,
Monks,
Black Pus,
Faust,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.