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 Kiribati and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Gap Band to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kool Moe Dee,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Funky Four + One,
Qualms,
The Searchers,
The Doors,
Whodini,
The Flesh Eaters,
Anakelly,
Royal Trux,
Drexciya,
Davy DMX,
Zapp,
New Age Steppers,
Susan Cadogan,
Bill Near,
Q65,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Mojo Men,
Mantronix,
X-Ray Spex,
Suburban Knight,
Al Stewart,
John Foxx,
Roy Ayers,
The Invisible,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Mummies,
Rekid,
Metal Thangz,
Wasted Youth,
Masters at Work,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Moody Blues,
a-ha,
Theoretical Girls,
The Index,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Shoche,
Arab on Radar,
Mars,
Aswad,
Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lalo Schifrin,
Girls At Our Best!,
Suicide,
MDC,
Television Personalities,
Rakim,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Associates,
David McCallum,
Delta 5,
The Buckinghams,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.