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 Italy and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba 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 Blancmange to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Shoche. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Mandrill,
The Dead C,
Grauzone,
John Holt,
T. Rex,
Byron Stingily,
Tears for Fears,
Excepter,
Faraquet,
Fat Boys,
Suicide,
Judy Mowatt,
The Seeds,
Sex Pistols,
Mark Hollis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Flipper,
Danielle Patucci,
The Remains,
Lindisfarne,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Offenders,
Zapp,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fatback Band,
The Saints,
Isaac Hayes,
Groovy Waters,
Bob Dylan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Misunderstood,
Banda Bassotti,
The Skatalites,
JFA,
Gang of Four,
Terrestrial Tones,
Siglo XX,
F. McDonald,
Pagans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Doobie Brothers,
D'Angelo,
Kenny Larkin,
The Cramps,
Fluxion,
Buzzcocks,
Radio Birdman,
The Monks,
The Gladiators,
James White and The Blacks,
The Kinks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Au Pairs,
Suburban Knight,
The United States of America,
Glenn Branca,
Mo-Dettes,
Circle Jerks,
Procol Harum,
The Raincoats,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.