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 Sweden and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 This Heat to the jazz 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale 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 snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Connie Case,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Inner City,
Trumans Water,
Henry Cow,
Pagans,
Aswad,
Saccharine Trust,
Circle Jerks,
Little Man,
Cluster,
Severed Heads,
Icehouse,
Johnny Clarke,
T. Rex,
Hashim,
Gerry Rafferty,
Deadbeat,
Desert Stars,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hoover,
Jacques Brel,
The Vogues,
Jeff Mills,
Deakin,
48th St. Collective,
The Busters,
Nik Kershaw,
Ohio Players,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Brass Construction,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Pretty Things,
Hot Snakes,
The Remains,
Black Moon,
Quando Quango,
a-ha,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nas,
Massinfluence,
Ken Boothe,
The Fortunes,
Moss Icon,
The Raincoats,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Arab on Radar,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Supertramp,
John Coltrane,
Japan,
The Toasters,
Symarip,
Slick Rick,
Interpol,
Yellowson,
Amazonics,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.