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 Eritrea and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer 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 Subhumans to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy 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?
Ice-T,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Cowsills,
F. McDonald,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Move,
The Litter,
Peter & Gordon,
Ten City,
Robert Hood,
Al Stewart,
Minutemen,
Skriet,
The Sound,
Skarface,
X-102,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ultra Naté,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Skatalites,
Rosa Yemen,
Siglo XX,
Tim Buckley,
Morten Harket,
Hardrive,
Angry Samoans,
Roxette,
The Alarm Clocks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Cameo,
Howard Jones,
Pole,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
48th St. Collective,
Archie Shepp,
Lindisfarne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Nik Kershaw,
Severed Heads,
Con Funk Shun,
Neu!,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Pretty Things,
Jimmy McGriff,
Television,
Trumans Water,
Nation of Ulysses,
Magazine,
Tears for Fears,
Pantytec,
Roger Hodgson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Isaac Hayes,
Rhythm & Sound,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Alton Ellis,
The Seeds,
Moebius,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.