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 Taiwan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the techno 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
Popol Vuh,
Jeff Mills,
Ultravox,
Ossler,
Rosa Yemen,
Derrick May,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nick Fraelich,
Shuggie Otis,
Junior Murvin,
Brand Nubian,
David Axelrod,
The Music Machine,
Mr. Review,
Dawn Penn,
The Searchers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Subhumans,
Cheater Slicks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Magma,
Procol Harum,
Tropical Tobacco,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Skatalites,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Oblivians,
Reagan Youth,
L. Decosne,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Graham Central Station,
Theoretical Girls,
DJ Style,
Derrick Morgan,
Charles Mingus,
CMW,
Yazoo,
Laurel Aitken,
Liliput,
Sound Behaviour,
Erasure,
Kenny Larkin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
B.T. Express,
The Durutti Column,
UT,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Angry Samoans,
Hasil Adkins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.