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 Mauritania and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Pussy Galore to the funk 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 Ludus. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
John Holt,
The Vogues,
Al Stewart,
JFA,
Underground Resistance,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mad Mike,
Bush Tetras,
The Selecter,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Suicide,
Pylon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Carl Craig,
Glenn Branca,
L. Decosne,
Eden Ahbez,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Joe Smooth,
T. Rex,
Sight & Sound,
Tears for Fears,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Japan,
Lucky Dragons,
Delta 5,
DNA,
Nik Kershaw,
Cymande,
Quadrant,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pet Shop Boys,
Robert Wyatt,
the Bar-Kays,
Marvin Gaye,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ken Boothe,
Deadbeat,
Y Pants,
B.T. Express,
Eli Mardock,
Cameo,
The Human League,
Jeff Mills,
The Beau Brummels,
Tres Demented,
Marc Almond,
Soft Machine,
E-Dancer,
H. Thieme,
Electric Prunes,
Dark Day,
Hoover,
Adolescents,
Eurythmics,
Gang Gang Dance,
David Axelrod,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Qualms,
Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra.
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.