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 Mauritius and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro 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 X-Ray Spex to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
The Litter,
The Standells,
Bobby Womack,
Piero Umiliani,
Bootsy Collins,
Radio Birdman,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Deepchord,
Mark Hollis,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Seeds,
Judy Mowatt,
Spandau Ballet,
Zero Boys,
Delta 5,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Can,
Matthew Bourne,
The Misunderstood,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Association,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Five Americans,
Susan Cadogan,
This Heat,
Scientists,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Hoover,
Neu!,
L. Decosne,
Carl Craig,
MDC,
One Last Wish,
Dead Boys,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
David McCallum,
Grauzone,
Black Bananas,
Malaria!,
Michelle Simonal,
Joe Finger,
June Days,
Reagan Youth,
K-Klass,
Lungfish,
The Black Dice,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sight & Sound,
The Happenings,
Basic Channel,
Gong,
Marine Girls,
Arthur Verocai,
Section 25,
Soft Machine,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alphaville,
Electric Prunes,
The Saints,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.