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 Ethiopia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 808 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 Matthew Bourne to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Soft Cell,
The Music Machine,
Mars,
Das Ding,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Deakin,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gabor Szabo,
a-ha,
Electric Prunes,
The J.B.'s,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Litter,
Curtis Mayfield,
Black Moon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Intrusion,
The Smoke,
Bobby Byrd,
Heaven 17,
Scrapy,
Unrelated Segments,
John Lydon,
The Monks,
The Motions,
Chris Corsano,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Aswad,
The Doors,
Fat Boys,
Severed Heads,
Subhumans,
Roger Hodgson,
Barrington Levy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
L. Decosne,
The Standells,
The American Breed,
Excepter,
FM Einheit,
Fela Kuti,
The New Christs,
The Last Poets,
The Red Krayola,
Mantronix,
Peter and Kerry,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Martian,
Metal Thangz,
Fad Gadget,
John Holt,
Eve St. Jones,
Pantytec,
Rod Modell,
Junior Murvin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Masters at Work,
The Golliwogs,
the Bar-Kays,
Lee Hazlewood,
Camouflage,
Jesper Dahlback,
Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One.
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.