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 Mali and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Barracudas to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grey Daturas,
Charles Mingus,
Index,
Ituana,
Moby Grape,
Gabor Szabo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Peter & Gordon,
New York Dolls,
The Dead C,
Amon Düül,
Bootsy Collins,
Panda Bear,
Magazine,
Fela Kuti,
The Dirtbombs,
Half Japanese,
Rites of Spring,
the Normal,
Letta Mbulu,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mission of Burma,
The Seeds,
UT,
Soft Cell,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Al Stewart,
Desert Stars,
Fatback Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Skatalites,
The Red Krayola,
Amazonics,
Gang Green,
Scientists,
Connie Case,
Theoretical Girls,
U.S. Maple,
The Five Americans,
Kurtis Blow,
Funkadelic,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bobby Sherman,
Michelle Simonal,
Scrapy,
Harry Pussy,
Electric Prunes,
Country Teasers,
Susan Cadogan,
Erykah Badu,
Suburban Knight,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scan 7,
Ronnie Foster,
Pantaleimon,
Model 500,
Fluxion,
Alice Coltrane,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.