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 Malawi and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Joyce Sims to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
The Cowsills,
Bill Near,
Camouflage,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Talk Talk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Livin' Joy,
Public Enemy,
Isaac Hayes,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Techniques,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fela Kuti,
The Stooges,
The Litter,
Slick Rick,
The Flesh Eaters,
Amon Düül II,
The Cure,
the Fania All-Stars,
Todd Rundgren,
John Holt,
Joe Finger,
Monolake,
Masters at Work,
H. Thieme,
Half Japanese,
Monks,
Graham Central Station,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pantytec,
Intrusion,
X-101,
Brass Construction,
E-Dancer,
The Beau Brummels,
Sight & Sound,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Germs,
Don Cherry,
Byron Stingily,
Scan 7,
The Real Kids,
Second Layer,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Soul Sonic Force,
Aloha Tigers,
Steve Hackett,
Cheater Slicks,
Inner City,
Sparks,
Animal Collective,
Mo-Dettes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Man Parrish,
Rotary Connection,
Gabor Szabo,
Minutemen,
The New Christs,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.