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 Lebanon and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Brand Nubian to the jazz 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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 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 an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
The Stooges,
Monolake,
Prince Buster,
Nas,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rakim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Association,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Absolute Body Control,
Howard Jones,
June Days,
Arthur Verocai,
Lee Hazlewood,
World's Most,
Easy Going,
Visage,
Sun Ra,
Royal Trux,
Yazoo,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Tremeloes,
David Axelrod,
Zero Boys,
The Sonics,
Depeche Mode,
Fad Gadget,
B.T. Express,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The American Breed,
Laurel Aitken,
Hoover,
Ituana,
Gabor Szabo,
Gang of Four,
The Detroit Cobras,
Schoolly D,
Henry Cow,
X-Ray Spex,
Mark Hollis,
Bad Manners,
The Dead C,
Zapp,
Main Source,
the Germs,
Thee Headcoats,
Rekid,
Simply Red,
Model 500,
Sandy B,
Jacques Brel,
Camberwell Now,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
China Crisis,
The Toasters,
Yusef Lateef,
The Saints,
Connie Case,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.