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 Botswana and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar 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 Lindisfarne to the punk 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
PIL,
Amon Düül,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eric B and Rakim,
Chrome,
OOIOO,
F. McDonald,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Matthew Halsall,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Big Daddy Kane,
a-ha,
Faraquet,
Kevin Saunderson,
Michelle Simonal,
Smog,
Marvin Gaye,
Heaven 17,
Minnie Riperton,
Cymande,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nation of Ulysses,
48th St. Collective,
Goldenarms,
Erykah Badu,
Nik Kershaw,
Roxy Music,
Eurythmics,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Wake,
Soul II Soul,
T.S.O.L.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Slave,
Jeff Lynne,
the Germs,
Sarah Menescal,
Surgeon,
Arthur Verocai,
Godley & Creme,
LL Cool J,
Delta 5,
Audionom,
Underground Resistance,
Graham Central Station,
Stockholm Monsters,
Easy Going,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Adolescents,
Soft Machine,
Rekid,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Unrelated Segments,
This Heat,
Harry Pussy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Yellowson,
Dead Boys,
The Martian,
Basic Channel,
Joyce Sims,
Stetsasonic,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.