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 Israel and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Con Funk Shun to the funk 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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
48th St. Collective,
Bill Near,
Arcadia,
Black Sheep,
Index,
Funky Four + One,
The Saints,
Royal Trux,
The Monochrome Set,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Almond,
Smog,
Alphaville,
The Happenings,
Mad Mike,
The Leaves,
Visage,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Gories,
Livin' Joy,
Gang Starr,
Wings,
The Black Dice,
Erykah Badu,
The Last Poets,
Robert Görl,
F. McDonald,
Minutemen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Erasure,
The Pop Group,
Guru Guru,
Nirvana,
The Monks,
The Techniques,
X-101,
The Modern Lovers,
Crooked Eye,
Young Marble Giants,
Echospace,
R.M.O.,
Toni Rubio,
Q65,
Boz Scaggs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Procol Harum,
Sound Behaviour,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Womack,
Howard Jones,
Electric Prunes,
Whodini,
Black Flag,
Y Pants,
The Young Rascals,
Make Up,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Soul II Soul,
AZ,
Blake Baxter,
Popol Vuh,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.