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 United Kingdom and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Walker Brothers to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 UT. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
H. Thieme,
Patti Smith,
Crooked Eye,
Average White Band,
Young Marble Giants,
Echospace,
Dead Boys,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gang of Four,
Althea and Donna,
Wings,
June Days,
Mandrill,
Eve St. Jones,
The Monks,
The Associates,
Mr. Review,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
a-ha,
Scan 7,
Matthew Bourne,
The American Breed,
Basic Channel,
Flipper,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pylon,
Tim Buckley,
Nick Fraelich,
Popol Vuh,
Drexciya,
Judy Mowatt,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Association,
The Doors,
The Sound,
Ken Boothe,
Niagra,
Blossom Toes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Chris & Cosey,
Godley & Creme,
Maurizio,
MDC,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mary Jane Girls,
A Certain Ratio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ultimate Spinach,
Minutemen,
Flash Fearless,
Gang Green,
X-Ray Spex,
Lucky Dragons,
Andrew Hill,
David McCallum,
Supertramp,
Camouflage,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.