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 Uruguay and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The J.B.'s,
The Zeros,
Vainqueur,
Country Teasers,
Malaria!,
Janne Schatter,
The Fortunes,
Young Marble Giants,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Neon Judgement,
Gang Gang Dance,
Laurel Aitken,
Peter and Kerry,
Pylon,
Spandau Ballet,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cymande,
Altered Images,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rotary Connection,
Joyce Sims,
Talk Talk,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Surgeon,
John Coltrane,
Camberwell Now,
The Misunderstood,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pussy Galore,
Liliput,
Quadrant,
The Mummies,
Bauhaus,
Robert Hood,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cluster,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kayak,
Erykah Badu,
X-102,
The Pretty Things,
The Selecter,
Spoonie Gee,
Judy Mowatt,
Hasil Adkins,
Neil Young,
Maurizio,
New York Dolls,
a-ha,
Jeff Mills,
Rites of Spring,
Angry Samoans,
Joey Negro,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Stooges,
The Associates,
Sex Pistols,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.