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 Spain and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bologna.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 10cc 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Mad Mike,
Cybotron,
Ken Boothe,
Slave,
Crash Course in Science,
KRS-One,
Siglo XX,
Underground Resistance,
The Electric Prunes,
David Axelrod,
Maleditus Sound,
Mandrill,
Wally Richardson,
Aaron Thompson,
Lee Hazlewood,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Mr. Review,
Eric Copeland,
Eve St. Jones,
Pylon,
Fugazi,
Can,
Gregory Isaacs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Grass Roots,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mission of Burma,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Flag,
Morten Harket,
Wasted Youth,
Robert Görl,
The Misunderstood,
DJ Sneak,
David McCallum,
The Fall,
Archie Shepp,
Skaos,
Eurythmics,
the Bar-Kays,
L. Decosne,
the Swans,
Altered Images,
The Seeds,
Roger Hodgson,
Scion,
Absolute Body Control,
Metal Thangz,
X-101,
The Last Poets,
Bill Wells,
48th St. Collective,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Moon,
Ronnie Foster,
Roy Ayers,
Guru Guru,
Little Man,
The Fortunes,
Nick Fraelich,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.