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 Qatar and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 The Music Machine to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Franke,
The Martian,
Nation of Ulysses,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ponytail,
Make Up,
Nik Kershaw,
Schoolly D,
Wings,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lucky Dragons,
The Misunderstood,
Youth Brigade,
Tears for Fears,
Liliput,
Marvin Gaye,
Boredoms,
Fluxion,
Television Personalities,
The Vogues,
Subhumans,
The Human League,
Bad Manners,
Avey Tare,
Charles Mingus,
10cc,
T.S.O.L.,
Y Pants,
Harry Pussy,
Procol Harum,
Monks,
Malaria!,
Index,
MDC,
Sister Nancy,
Negative Approach,
Excepter,
Rod Modell,
Dual Sessions,
Judy Mowatt,
The Remains,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The American Breed,
Section 25,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mary Jane Girls,
Swell Maps,
Sight & Sound,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fatback Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Kinks,
Camouflage,
Terry Callier,
Aloha Tigers,
Andrew Hill,
cv313,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.