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 Lesotho and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the crunk 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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
Ossler,
X-101,
Pulsallama,
The Blues Magoos,
Lyres,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Byrd,
Terry Callier,
Easy Going,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Buckinghams,
Subhumans,
Groovy Waters,
Henry Cow,
Cluster,
UT,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Saints,
The Searchers,
LL Cool J,
Shoche,
Adolescents,
Country Teasers,
Leonard Cohen,
Khruangbin,
Japan,
Mad Mike,
The Last Poets,
Black Sheep,
New Order,
Moby Grape,
Reuben Wilson,
Eli Mardock,
Mr. Review,
Arthur Verocai,
Isaac Hayes,
Jacob Miller,
The Slits,
Lindisfarne,
Boredoms,
Angry Samoans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Laurel Aitken,
Excepter,
Interpol,
Max Romeo,
Chris Corsano,
Man Eating Sloth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
48th St. Collective,
The Electric Prunes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gabor Szabo,
Cecil Taylor,
Colin Newman,
Inner City,
Flash Fearless,
Lalo Schifrin,
Deakin,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Fall,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.