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 Philippines and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Andrew Hill to the dance 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rhythim Is Rhythim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
The Last Poets,
the Slits,
Leonard Cohen,
Pierre Henry,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Royal Trux,
Can,
Black Bananas,
Max Romeo,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Slick Rick,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dawn Penn,
Sandy B,
Stiv Bators,
Ultravox,
Flash Fearless,
Blake Baxter,
Pantytec,
Patti Smith,
Eddi Front,
The Misunderstood,
Joe Smooth,
Bang On A Can,
Scientists,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mad Mike,
Rosa Yemen,
Lalo Schifrin,
Country Teasers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
LL Cool J,
Skaos,
Trumans Water,
Agent Orange,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
U.S. Maple,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ohio Players,
The Smoke,
R.M.O.,
La Düsseldorf,
Fear,
June of 44,
a-ha,
Camouflage,
The Dirtbombs,
Scion,
Vladislav Delay,
Joyce Sims,
The Fugs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Radiohead,
Scratch Acid,
John Cale,
X-Ray Spex,
Excepter,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.