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 Solomon Islands and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the grunge 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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q and Not U,
Dark Day,
EPMD,
Electric Prunes,
The Blues Magoos,
John Holt,
Soft Machine,
The Motions,
Dual Sessions,
PIL,
Bob Dylan,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alice Coltrane,
Sparks,
Quadrant,
Todd Terry,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Alarm Clocks,
Colin Newman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Toasters,
Negative Approach,
Nils Olav,
Khruangbin,
Supertramp,
Thee Headcoats,
Donald Byrd,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ultra Naté,
LL Cool J,
The Martian,
Peter and Kerry,
In Retrospect,
Throbbing Gristle,
AZ,
Harmonia,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Au Pairs,
Radio Birdman,
Deakin,
Lower 48,
The Offenders,
Arthur Verocai,
Al Stewart,
The Music Machine,
Whodini,
New Age Steppers,
Zero Boys,
Dawn Penn,
Outsiders,
Saccharine Trust,
Jeff Lynne,
Donny Hathaway,
The Sonics,
T.S.O.L.,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kenny Larkin,
The Vogues,
Livin' Joy,
Dave Gahan,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.