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 Uruguay and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thee Headcoats,
Arcadia,
The Wake,
Slave,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Blackbyrds,
Underground Resistance,
Malaria!,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Moebius,
FM Einheit,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
MC5,
Guru Guru,
Symarip,
The Skatalites,
Section 25,
the Human League,
Popol Vuh,
Blancmange,
Lungfish,
Stereo Dub,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gang of Four,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Derrick Morgan,
H. Thieme,
Icehouse,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gang Gang Dance,
The United States of America,
The Beau Brummels,
the Sonics,
Bootsy Collins,
Gil Scott Heron,
This Heat,
Fluxion,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Agitation Free,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Smiths,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Gun Club,
The Blues Magoos,
Eve St. Jones,
Amazonics,
Barry Ungar,
Cluster,
Gong,
The Zeros,
The Fall,
Tomorrow,
The Grass Roots,
The Busters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ludus,
Soft Cell,
Boz Scaggs,
The Index,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.