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 Croatia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 Fela Kuti to the rap 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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars 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?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mission of Burma,
Flamin' Groovies,
Arab on Radar,
The Monks,
Jeru the Damaja,
The American Breed,
Gang Starr,
Circle Jerks,
The Names,
Ponytail,
The Moody Blues,
KRS-One,
Von Mondo,
Neu!,
The Music Machine,
Index,
Erykah Badu,
The Selecter,
The Durutti Column,
Pulsallama,
Blancmange,
Howard Jones,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Blackbyrds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Desert Stars,
Pantytec,
Parry Music,
Quando Quango,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Association,
A Certain Ratio,
Nils Olav,
Brick,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
New York Dolls,
Sonic Youth,
Subhumans,
Jacques Brel,
Thompson Twins,
Excepter,
Ken Boothe,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Alphaville,
Jeff Lynne,
Shoche,
Barry Ungar,
Cecil Taylor,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Velvet Underground,
The Pop Group,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sound Behaviour,
Nick Fraelich,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tears for Fears,
The Residents,
The Beau Brummels,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scott Walker,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.