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 Ivory Coast and from Calgary.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
The Move,
Scientists,
Parry Music,
Matthew Bourne,
Ralphi Rosario,
Index,
The Blackbyrds,
Bush Tetras,
Hashim,
Alphaville,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Crispian St. Peters,
LL Cool J,
Pole,
Nico,
Angry Samoans,
Supertramp,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Trumans Water,
The New Christs,
Agent Orange,
Goldenarms,
Stetsasonic,
The Music Machine,
Interpol,
Chris & Cosey,
ABBA,
Spoonie Gee,
X-Ray Spex,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dirtbombs,
Country Teasers,
Rod Modell,
Slave,
Don Cherry,
The Human League,
Bronski Beat,
The Skatalites,
Deepchord,
Soft Machine,
John Lydon,
The Fortunes,
Yellowson,
The Martian,
Todd Rundgren,
Cal Tjader,
Malaria!,
This Heat,
Magazine,
Gabor Szabo,
the Soft Cell,
Fela Kuti,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Banda Bassotti,
Robert Görl,
Ultravox,
La Düsseldorf,
Unrelated Segments,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Manfred Mann's Earth Band.
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.