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 South Sudan and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the 808 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 Crispian St. Peters 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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Doobie Brothers,
the Sonics,
The Mummies,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
U.S. Maple,
Popol Vuh,
Oneida,
Soul II Soul,
Max Romeo,
Ultimate Spinach,
10cc,
Dual Sessions,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Scott Walker,
The Music Machine,
Rapeman,
a-ha,
The Skatalites,
The Real Kids,
Grauzone,
Mr. Review,
Anthony Braxton,
The Smiths,
Lindisfarne,
Lightning Bolt,
The Knickerbockers,
The Cowsills,
The Velvet Underground,
The Slackers,
Arcadia,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
JFA,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
kango's stein massive,
Faraquet,
John Holt,
Steve Hackett,
Organ,
The Wake,
The Monochrome Set,
Thompson Twins,
New Order,
The Red Krayola,
The Gladiators,
Stiv Bators,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Blancmange,
John Lydon,
Yellowson,
Quantec,
Idris Muhammad,
Whodini,
Surgeon,
The Toasters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Thee Headcoats,
The Slits,
World's Most,
Roxy Music,
Slick Rick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.