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 Algeria and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 kango's stein massive to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Minny Pops. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Human League,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Derrick May,
Symarip,
Urselle,
Fear,
The Doobie Brothers,
Liliput,
Dawn Penn,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Dave Gahan,
Skarface,
H. Thieme,
Piero Umiliani,
Average White Band,
Spandau Ballet,
The Motions,
Nik Kershaw,
Ossler,
The Pretty Things,
Sonny Sharrock,
Radiopuhelimet,
Al Stewart,
The Martian,
The Wake,
Agent Orange,
Harpers Bizarre,
Robert Wyatt,
The Searchers,
The Leaves,
Judy Mowatt,
The Mojo Men,
The Birthday Party,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pantaleimon,
Davy DMX,
Japan,
Pet Shop Boys,
MDC,
Morten Harket,
Kerrie Biddell,
Andrew Hill,
Los Fastidios,
Jeff Lynne,
Soft Cell,
Lakeside,
Swans,
Marine Girls,
D'Angelo,
Amazonics,
Popol Vuh,
Boogie Down Productions,
Trumans Water,
Quadrant,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dorothy Ashby,
New Age Steppers,
Freddie Wadling,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.