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 Kyrgyzstan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Young Rascals to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum 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 organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Association,
Bush Tetras,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bob Dylan,
Amazonics,
Cymande,
Con Funk Shun,
Bill Wells,
Nik Kershaw,
The Misunderstood,
Laurel Aitken,
The Selecter,
Soft Cell,
Boz Scaggs,
Eddi Front,
Jacob Miller,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The J.B.'s,
These Immortal Souls,
David Bowie,
The Seeds,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Porter Ricks,
Malaria!,
The Cramps,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Normal,
The Divine Comedy,
Talk Talk,
T. Rex,
Ultravox,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sex Pistols,
Dark Day,
Gerry Rafferty,
Don Cherry,
Skarface,
Wasted Youth,
The Toasters,
DJ Sneak,
Visage,
The Gun Club,
The American Breed,
The Wake,
Hashim,
Duran Duran,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mark Hollis,
Joe Finger,
Ituana,
Judy Mowatt,
B.T. Express,
Heaven 17,
Mad Mike,
Unrelated Segments,
The Mojo Men,
Todd Terry,
James White and The Blacks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
June Days,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.