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 Ghana and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in 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 Heaven 17 to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Motorama,
kango's stein massive,
Amon Düül,
Ken Boothe,
Lungfish,
Matthew Bourne,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Echospace,
Los Fastidios,
Brothers Johnson,
Pussy Galore,
Hoover,
The Barracudas,
Aural Exciters,
The Index,
Model 500,
Buzzcocks,
Arthur Verocai,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ronnie Foster,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Associates,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Monks,
The Real Kids,
Chrome,
Wire,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Arab on Radar,
Harpers Bizarre,
Idris Muhammad,
Barrington Levy,
Barbara Tucker,
The Selecter,
The Victims,
June of 44,
the Association,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Marvin Gaye,
The Electric Prunes,
Hasil Adkins,
Robert Wyatt,
Depeche Mode,
Popol Vuh,
Nils Olav,
DNA,
The Five Americans,
Lou Reed,
JFA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Soulsonic Force,
Ultravox,
Curtis Mayfield,
Flipper,
FM Einheit,
L. Decosne,
The Move,
The Wake,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.