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 Israel and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Terrestrial Tones to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
London Community Gospel Choir,
EPMD,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dorothy Ashby,
Urselle,
Bootsy Collins,
Lou Christie,
Cymande,
Heaven 17,
Funky Four + One,
The Beau Brummels,
Susan Cadogan,
Camouflage,
Pole,
Black Sheep,
Gabor Szabo,
Bluetip,
Reuben Wilson,
The Blackbyrds,
Simply Red,
Severed Heads,
Throbbing Gristle,
Howard Jones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Circle Jerks,
Robert Hood,
These Immortal Souls,
The Trojans,
Sight & Sound,
The Names,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Monolake,
The Smiths,
X-102,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Divine Comedy,
Aural Exciters,
Tommy Roe,
Cal Tjader,
DNA,
Parry Music,
Soft Cell,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Blues Magoos,
Scott Walker,
The Vogues,
Sex Pistols,
Spoonie Gee,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eddi Front,
Vainqueur,
Qualms,
Echospace,
The Busters,
Warren Ellis,
The Stooges,
UT,
Malaria!,
Shuggie Otis,
The Residents,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.