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 Azerbaijan and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Nik Kershaw to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Gang Gang Dance,
Unwound,
Deepchord,
Pantaleimon,
Mo-Dettes,
Sun Ra,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Faust,
Connie Case,
Siglo XX,
Surgeon,
Main Source,
Gichy Dan,
Pet Shop Boys,
Niagra,
Tomorrow,
KRS-One,
Alton Ellis,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxette,
Marmalade,
Hashim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
CMW,
Max Romeo,
Mary Jane Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
Eric Copeland,
John Holt,
Mandrill,
Ossler,
Theoretical Girls,
a-ha,
Lyres,
Brothers Johnson,
Nas,
Delon & Dalcan,
Spoonie Gee,
Marc Almond,
Bobby Womack,
Silicon Teens,
Excepter,
The Gladiators,
Gabor Szabo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Can,
World's Most,
H. Thieme,
Tommy Roe,
Bob Dylan,
Rapeman,
Royal Trux,
Moby Grape,
China Crisis,
Aswad,
Sällskapet,
Prince Buster,
Matthew Bourne,
Severed Heads,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scott Walker,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.