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 Somalia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Easy Going,
Arab on Radar,
Crime,
This Heat,
Lalann,
Stockholm Monsters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Letta Mbulu,
Half Japanese,
Jeru the Damaja,
Negative Approach,
The Fire Engines,
The Names,
Wire,
The Doors,
The Five Americans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Iggy Pop,
Kerri Chandler,
Rod Modell,
Todd Rundgren,
Moby Grape,
Model 500,
The Durutti Column,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lightning Bolt,
Sight & Sound,
The Black Dice,
Q and Not U,
The Vogues,
Minnie Riperton,
The Stooges,
Masters at Work,
the Fania All-Stars,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Intrusion,
Minutemen,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joe Smooth,
The Cowsills,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Misunderstood,
Groovy Waters,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Television Personalities,
Sam Rivers,
Bobby Womack,
Crooked Eye,
X-101,
The Selecter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Radiohead,
The Busters,
Ultravox,
Skarface,
In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect.
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.