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 Maldives and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Glasgow.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Shuggie Otis to the dance 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jeff Mills,
Skriet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Girls At Our Best!,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ultravox,
Yusef Lateef,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rod Modell,
Laurel Aitken,
Reuben Wilson,
The Music Machine,
Scrapy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Depeche Mode,
Nick Fraelich,
Eden Ahbez,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The New Christs,
New Order,
The Litter,
Sonny Sharrock,
H. Thieme,
Sight & Sound,
Simply Red,
Althea and Donna,
X-101,
Michelle Simonal,
The Stooges,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scan 7,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
E-Dancer,
Harry Pussy,
The Cramps,
Roger Hodgson,
Mo-Dettes,
Neil Young,
Stiv Bators,
Aural Exciters,
Monks,
The Gladiators,
Ken Boothe,
Tim Buckley,
The Flesh Eaters,
Terry Callier,
Surgeon,
Bad Manners,
Prince Buster,
The J.B.'s,
Shuggie Otis,
The American Breed,
T.S.O.L.,
Wasted Youth,
David Axelrod,
Robert Wyatt,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.