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 Tunisia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Ultimate Spinach to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
the Bar-Kays,
Tim Buckley,
R.M.O.,
Tom Boy,
Suicide,
Aaron Thompson,
Erasure,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eric Dolphy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Black Moon,
Blake Baxter,
Steve Hackett,
Gerry Rafferty,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Brothers Johnson,
Whodini,
In Retrospect,
Bang On A Can,
Aural Exciters,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Reed,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sandy B,
Stiv Bators,
Simply Red,
Siglo XX,
Marvin Gaye,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Swell Maps,
Adolescents,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
MC5,
Wally Richardson,
Sonic Youth,
Gang Starr,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The J.B.'s,
The Flesh Eaters,
Brass Construction,
Pantytec,
Fat Boys,
The Neon Judgement,
Lee Hazlewood,
Junior Murvin,
Faust,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Donny Hathaway,
Sarah Menescal,
The Toasters,
kango's stein massive,
Rosa Yemen,
Darondo,
Bluetip,
Trumans Water,
Scientists,
Slick Rick,
Ohio Players,
Jerry's Kids,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.