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 Hungary and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Joy Division to the jazz 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 Joey Negro. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Gang Green,
Roy Ayers,
the Germs,
Colin Newman,
Second Layer,
Y Pants,
A Certain Ratio,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ronan,
Laurel Aitken,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Groovy Waters,
Wire,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sällskapet,
Mad Mike,
La Düsseldorf,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Monochrome Set,
Fluxion,
Gang Starr,
Erasure,
China Crisis,
The Fugs,
Radio Birdman,
The Durutti Column,
The Remains,
The Gories,
Panda Bear,
Sugar Minott,
Suburban Knight,
Kurtis Blow,
Main Source,
Sixth Finger,
Interpol,
Gang of Four,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Grauzone,
The Names,
Bob Dylan,
Gong,
Black Moon,
T. Rex,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Gladiators,
Spoonie Gee,
Ice-T,
MC5,
In Retrospect,
Hot Snakes,
Lower 48,
Motorama,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Sheep,
Bobby Byrd,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Masters at Work,
The Trojans,
The Offenders,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kas Product,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.