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 Andorra and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Angry Samoans to the techno 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Searchers,
Harry Pussy,
Guru Guru,
Throbbing Gristle,
Drexciya,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Bar-Kays,
Subhumans,
John Lydon,
The American Breed,
Flash Fearless,
Max Romeo,
Circle Jerks,
Mo-Dettes,
Barbara Tucker,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Reuben Wilson,
Audionom,
X-101,
Banda Bassotti,
Scion,
The Smoke,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
DJ Style,
Derrick May,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dave Gahan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Flipper,
Robert Görl,
The Beau Brummels,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Monochrome Set,
Marmalade,
Livin' Joy,
The Fuzztones,
the Fania All-Stars,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Crooked Eye,
Sister Nancy,
the Germs,
David McCallum,
Amon Düül II,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Adolescents,
Arcadia,
Lucky Dragons,
Lakeside,
Janne Schatter,
Deakin,
Ultravox,
ABC,
The Young Rascals,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Minny Pops,
Black Sheep,
Funky Four + One,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.