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 Switzerland and from Woodstock.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Underground Resistance to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Heaven 17,
Stockholm Monsters,
China Crisis,
Sun City Girls,
Jacob Miller,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric Copeland,
ABBA,
Don Cherry,
The Mummies,
Dennis Brown,
Franke,
Alison Limerick,
The Searchers,
Aural Exciters,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Can,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Deepchord,
The Monks,
Eddi Front,
Suburban Knight,
Zapp,
Kerrie Biddell,
10cc,
Das Ding,
Eli Mardock,
Delon & Dalcan,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Buckinghams,
Amazonics,
Slick Rick,
Bauhaus,
John Coltrane,
EPMD,
Gichy Dan,
Suicide,
The Smoke,
Icehouse,
Girls At Our Best!,
Wings,
ABC,
D'Angelo,
E-Dancer,
Interpol,
The Barracudas,
Jeff Mills,
Theoretical Girls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Visage,
Bobby Sherman,
The Velvet Underground,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marcia Griffiths,
In Retrospect,
Public Enemy,
Ken Boothe,
Robert Wyatt,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.