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 Papua New Guinea and from Taipei.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 synthesizer 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 Girls At Our Best! to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Technova,
Kurtis Blow,
Wally Richardson,
Pole,
Ash Ra Tempel,
kango's stein massive,
Newcleus,
Adolescents,
Al Stewart,
Jeff Lynne,
Soul II Soul,
Matthew Halsall,
Anakelly,
Barry Ungar,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Darondo,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Clear Light,
Tim Buckley,
Nas,
Desert Stars,
Angry Samoans,
Outsiders,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Skatalites,
Lee Hazlewood,
Accadde A,
Fugazi,
Groovy Waters,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Seeds,
Lou Christie,
Siglo XX,
Saccharine Trust,
Scion,
Oneida,
Echospace,
T. Rex,
Gang Starr,
the Sonics,
Y Pants,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Junior Murvin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Agitation Free,
Radiohead,
Nirvana,
Brick,
Morten Harket,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tomorrow,
Faraquet,
Ultravox,
Crooked Eye,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.