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 Sierra Leone and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Manchester.
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 arpeggiator 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 48th St. Collective to the techno 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 marimba and a theremin 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 mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
Minor Threat,
Josef K,
Supertramp,
Pet Shop Boys,
Essential Logic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Divine Comedy,
Godley & Creme,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Residents,
The Angels of Light,
LL Cool J,
Bauhaus,
Dawn Penn,
The Fire Engines,
Aural Exciters,
Mantronix,
Television,
Gang Starr,
The Walker Brothers,
Rufus Thomas,
Mo-Dettes,
the Bar-Kays,
Robert Wyatt,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harmonia,
Fear,
kango's stein massive,
Gil Scott Heron,
Frankie Knuckles,
Carl Craig,
The Blackbyrds,
EPMD,
Soul II Soul,
Porter Ricks,
Juan Atkins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Warren Ellis,
Howard Jones,
Robert Hood,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Letta Mbulu,
Hardrive,
Ronan,
Ohio Players,
Camberwell Now,
Rites of Spring,
Nik Kershaw,
Circle Jerks,
James White and The Blacks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Funkadelic,
The Durutti Column,
The Fortunes,
Camouflage,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Absolute Body Control,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Radio Birdman,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.