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 East Timor and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 guitar 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 Motorama to the rap 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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Andrew Hill,
Warsaw,
The Velvet Underground,
The J.B.'s,
Letta Mbulu,
Saccharine Trust,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Victims,
F. McDonald,
Lalann,
Juan Atkins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Buzzcocks,
Nils Olav,
Davy DMX,
Big Daddy Kane,
Al Stewart,
Sam Rivers,
The New Christs,
Mr. Review,
Technova,
UT,
The Gap Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Saints,
Make Up,
Wolf Eyes,
The Misunderstood,
Don Cherry,
Metal Thangz,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eric Dolphy,
Jacob Miller,
Flipper,
The Vogues,
Deadbeat,
Jandek,
The Count Five,
The United States of America,
The Standells,
Skaos,
Mission of Burma,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Outsiders,
The Modern Lovers,
John Holt,
Lou Christie,
10cc,
Sun City Girls,
The Leaves,
Au Pairs,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Electric Prunes,
The Dirtbombs,
Godley & Creme,
Scott Walker,
Joe Smooth,
Von Mondo,
Skarface,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.