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 Pakistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Kerri Chandler to the punk 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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Flesh Eaters,
Unrelated Segments,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kevin Saunderson,
Amon Düül,
Bootsy Collins,
Mary Jane Girls,
Banda Bassotti,
Mission of Burma,
Howard Jones,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Talk Talk,
The Saints,
Deakin,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Remains,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Colin Newman,
Cluster,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Au Pairs,
Prince Buster,
LL Cool J,
Pulsallama,
Con Funk Shun,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nirvana,
Ultra Naté,
The Sound,
Y Pants,
The Beau Brummels,
Excepter,
Motorama,
Model 500,
Outsiders,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Radio Birdman,
Pagans,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Gun Club,
Pussy Galore,
The Dirtbombs,
Von Mondo,
Fad Gadget,
Rites of Spring,
Byron Stingily,
Nick Fraelich,
The Associates,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Human League,
Kurtis Blow,
The Modern Lovers,
Electric Prunes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Connie Case,
The Busters,
Icehouse,
Tommy Roe,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Vladislav Delay,
Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme, Godley & Creme.
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.