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 New Zealand and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Sparks to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
The Slackers,
Saccharine Trust,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Mojo Men,
Mo-Dettes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brick,
the Soft Cell,
In Retrospect,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hot Snakes,
Subhumans,
Rhythm & Sound,
B.T. Express,
Peter & Gordon,
Archie Shepp,
Intrusion,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Stooges,
Lou Christie,
The Offenders,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Metal Thangz,
LL Cool J,
Steve Hackett,
The Associates,
The Happenings,
Radio Birdman,
Mantronix,
Kas Product,
Bobby Sherman,
Rod Modell,
Masters at Work,
Donald Byrd,
Aural Exciters,
T.S.O.L.,
Grey Daturas,
Moebius,
Accadde A,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Crime,
Sugar Minott,
Faust,
Kool Moe Dee,
Iggy Pop,
Yusef Lateef,
The Birthday Party,
X-101,
Newcleus,
Gang of Four,
Ultimate Spinach,
Quando Quango,
Au Pairs,
Thee Headcoats,
Marvin Gaye,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sam Rivers,
Severed Heads,
U.S. Maple,
Alison Limerick,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.