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 Thailand and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Motions,
the Slits,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Gladiators,
Swans,
Crooked Eye,
The Raincoats,
Tommy Roe,
Skarface,
Ten City,
Fat Boys,
Saccharine Trust,
DJ Sneak,
Desert Stars,
The Moleskins,
Tom Boy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Slick Rick,
The Trojans,
Sandy B,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Skatalites,
Josef K,
New Order,
Pagans,
Marmalade,
Laurel Aitken,
Derrick May,
R.M.O.,
Todd Rundgren,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ornette Coleman,
Can,
Simply Red,
The Stooges,
Rites of Spring,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Germs,
Black Sheep,
The Neon Judgement,
Kenny Larkin,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bush Tetras,
Alison Limerick,
The Moody Blues,
Q and Not U,
La Düsseldorf,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ultra Naté,
Idris Muhammad,
Average White Band,
Malaria!,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronnie Foster,
Donald Byrd,
Cameo,
Ponytail,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sällskapet,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.