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 New Zealand 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 linndrum 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 Niagra to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Visage,
Young Marble Giants,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Interpol,
Neil Young,
Black Moon,
June of 44,
Wolf Eyes,
Neu!,
The Fire Engines,
Silicon Teens,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Seeds,
Minnie Riperton,
The Golliwogs,
Masters at Work,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ultravox,
The Divine Comedy,
Fear,
The Offenders,
Andrew Hill,
Ossler,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Searchers,
The Busters,
Eve St. Jones,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
ABBA,
Colin Newman,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Delon & Dalcan,
Urselle,
World's Most,
Cameo,
Gang Starr,
Archie Shepp,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dual Sessions,
The Raincoats,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Lydon,
Accadde A,
Niagra,
The Skatalites,
David Bowie,
The Knickerbockers,
Alphaville,
The Angels of Light,
Mars,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hoover,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Big Daddy Kane,
Camberwell Now,
The Cowsills,
Bobby Sherman,
Theoretical Girls,
Kurtis Blow,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.