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 Liechtenstein and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Cameo to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Maurizio,
Swans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Schoolly D,
Colin Newman,
10cc,
The Searchers,
Moebius,
Gang Gang Dance,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jacques Brel,
Radiohead,
Pulsallama,
Pussy Galore,
Minny Pops,
Janne Schatter,
Model 500,
The Birthday Party,
Skarface,
The Cramps,
Masters at Work,
Jimmy McGriff,
Althea and Donna,
The Real Kids,
The Move,
Harmonia,
Arab on Radar,
Rotary Connection,
Deakin,
a-ha,
Little Man,
Glambeats Corp.,
June Days,
Con Funk Shun,
Sixth Finger,
The Electric Prunes,
This Heat,
Skaos,
The Red Krayola,
Bill Near,
Symarip,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Smiths,
Icehouse,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Zeros,
Jerry's Kids,
Patti Smith,
Bobby Sherman,
Mark Hollis,
Malaria!,
Public Enemy,
Roy Ayers,
Silicon Teens,
Nas,
The Blues Magoos,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ten City,
Mars,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Au Pairs,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.