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 Zimbabwe and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fela Kuti to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Wasted Youth,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Audionom,
Mars,
F. McDonald,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Seeds,
U.S. Maple,
Con Funk Shun,
Public Enemy,
Amon Düül,
Vladislav Delay,
Skaos,
Sonny Sharrock,
Anthony Braxton,
The Doors,
The Divine Comedy,
Mission of Burma,
the Human League,
Lebanon Hanover,
Beasts of Bourbon,
D'Angelo,
Ponytail,
Gerry Rafferty,
Vainqueur,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bluetip,
Fluxion,
Thee Headcoats,
Unwound,
Altered Images,
The Victims,
Donald Byrd,
Soul Sonic Force,
Talk Talk,
Bush Tetras,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jacques Brel,
Ornette Coleman,
Pylon,
B.T. Express,
Eden Ahbez,
DJ Style,
Barrington Levy,
Darondo,
The Fire Engines,
Ossler,
Excepter,
The Skatalites,
Rapeman,
Clear Light,
Minor Threat,
Animal Collective,
The Shadows of Knight,
Make Up,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.