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 Sudan and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 güiro 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 Mummies to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Funky Four + One,
Terry Callier,
Scion,
The Moody Blues,
UT,
Jeff Mills,
Blancmange,
Siglo XX,
The Monks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tears for Fears,
the Human League,
Graham Central Station,
T. Rex,
The Fortunes,
Matthew Halsall,
Tropical Tobacco,
Circle Jerks,
Aural Exciters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eddi Front,
Thompson Twins,
The Searchers,
Young Marble Giants,
Minny Pops,
The Moleskins,
Wire,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rekid,
Marc Almond,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pagans,
The Slits,
The Blues Magoos,
Shuggie Otis,
The Remains,
Eurythmics,
Tomorrow,
The Stooges,
Das Ding,
Khruangbin,
Camouflage,
David Bowie,
The Selecter,
Curtis Mayfield,
Liliput,
Ultravox,
Johnny Clarke,
Gong,
Reagan Youth,
Brand Nubian,
The Slackers,
Roxy Music,
Rosa Yemen,
K-Klass,
Grandmaster Flash,
June Days,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Boredoms,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.