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 Kuwait and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the snare 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 Sun City Girls 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Scott Walker,
Pulsallama,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Inner City,
Connie Case,
Johnny Clarke,
Graham Central Station,
Tommy Roe,
Barbara Tucker,
Massinfluence,
Pussy Galore,
Index,
The Sonics,
Ludus,
Mary Jane Girls,
Schoolly D,
Crooked Eye,
Blossom Toes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dawn Penn,
Rites of Spring,
Angry Samoans,
Deadbeat,
Peter & Gordon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
ABBA,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Leonard Cohen,
cv313,
Bush Tetras,
Arcadia,
Eli Mardock,
Rotary Connection,
Au Pairs,
Brand Nubian,
Porter Ricks,
Intrusion,
F. McDonald,
Mark Hollis,
Minnie Riperton,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bluetip,
Bob Dylan,
a-ha,
Althea and Donna,
Grauzone,
Boz Scaggs,
Magma,
Hasil Adkins,
Lungfish,
Eve St. Jones,
The Leaves,
Youth Brigade,
Kayak,
Eddi Front,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Residents,
Eurythmics,
Audionom,
Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach.
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.