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 Sierra Leone 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Theoretical Girls to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
Peter and Kerry,
Anakelly,
the Human League,
Eli Mardock,
Drive Like Jehu,
Oneida,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Connie Case,
Can,
David Bowie,
Amon Düül,
cv313,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Maleditus Sound,
Ice-T,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Angry Samoans,
Arthur Verocai,
Robert Wyatt,
Susan Cadogan,
Moebius,
Bootsy Collins,
Mandrill,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Flag,
The Fall,
The Barracudas,
The Walker Brothers,
The Slackers,
Don Cherry,
Royal Trux,
JFA,
Traffic Nightmare,
D'Angelo,
R.M.O.,
the Swans,
The Buckinghams,
Adolescents,
The Smiths,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Toni Rubio,
Bluetip,
Gong,
The Doors,
The Cowsills,
Sound Behaviour,
China Crisis,
Suicide,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boredoms,
Motorama,
The Flesh Eaters,
Erykah Badu,
Japan,
Laurel Aitken,
The Angels of Light,
Jerry's Kids,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Crooked Eye,
The Wake,
Surgeon,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.