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 Poland and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Halifax and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 chamberlin 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 Grandmaster Flash to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders 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 chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Erykah Badu,
Andrew Hill,
London Community Gospel Choir,
F. McDonald,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalo Schifrin,
Toni Rubio,
Wings,
The Neon Judgement,
T. Rex,
Joy Division,
Brothers Johnson,
Henry Cow,
Juan Atkins,
LL Cool J,
Michelle Simonal,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Black Dice,
These Immortal Souls,
Blake Baxter,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Joe Finger,
Popol Vuh,
Wolf Eyes,
Cal Tjader,
Matthew Bourne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Amazonics,
Nik Kershaw,
Lungfish,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Man Parrish,
Electric Prunes,
Black Moon,
Theoretical Girls,
The Moleskins,
Rites of Spring,
The New Christs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Godley & Creme,
Spandau Ballet,
Minnie Riperton,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lindisfarne,
Procol Harum,
Warsaw,
Aswad,
Rekid,
Quantec,
The Motions,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rakim,
Jeff Mills,
Nick Fraelich,
The Smoke,
Grauzone,
The Doobie Brothers,
Freddie Wadling,
David McCallum,
Pussy Galore,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.