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 Lesotho and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Crooked Eye to the funk 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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
The American Breed,
Marmalade,
Mars,
Harry Pussy,
Funky Four + One,
Jeff Lynne,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tomorrow,
Fluxion,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Icehouse,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tom Boy,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Golliwogs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ituana,
Radio Birdman,
The Velvet Underground,
John Coltrane,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Buckinghams,
Interpol,
Unrelated Segments,
Reagan Youth,
Nils Olav,
The Grass Roots,
PIL,
Carl Craig,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
DJ Style,
Brass Construction,
Peter and Kerry,
Ken Boothe,
One Last Wish,
Aswad,
Supertramp,
Sam Rivers,
Lungfish,
Pussy Galore,
Maleditus Sound,
Scion,
Anakelly,
Eli Mardock,
Cal Tjader,
Bill Wells,
New Order,
The Cramps,
Arthur Verocai,
The Durutti Column,
Surgeon,
Roger Hodgson,
John Cale,
Laurel Aitken,
The Kinks,
Quantec,
The Electric Prunes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pole,
Fugazi,
Oneida,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.