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 Australia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Eve St. Jones to the disco 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All Technova tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Gang of Four,
Mark Hollis,
Bobby Sherman,
The Young Rascals,
The Fire Engines,
The Residents,
Henry Cow,
Black Sheep,
Jawbox,
LL Cool J,
R.M.O.,
Kas Product,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Amon Düül II,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Smog,
Ludus,
The Busters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Human League,
Tubeway Army,
The Neon Judgement,
Cameo,
Reuben Wilson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Isaac Hayes,
Quantec,
Rekid,
Livin' Joy,
Maleditus Sound,
Oneida,
Ultravox,
Index,
Godley & Creme,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Patti Smith,
The Cowsills,
Sound Behaviour,
Little Man,
John Lydon,
Radiohead,
Pantytec,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mission of Burma,
Surgeon,
China Crisis,
Scan 7,
Amazonics,
Robert Wyatt,
Unwound,
The Selecter,
Rotary Connection,
Moss Icon,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Niagra,
Brass Construction,
Urselle,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.