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 Iraq and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Bluetip,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ornette Coleman,
Warsaw,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fear,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Sonics,
The Velvet Underground,
Ultimate Spinach,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eric Dolphy,
Barrington Levy,
Pagans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dead Boys,
JFA,
The Monks,
Rakim,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Big Daddy Kane,
Shoche,
Monks,
Trumans Water,
Mo-Dettes,
Chris & Cosey,
Subhumans,
Au Pairs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Alphaville,
Kaleidoscope,
Adolescents,
Bootsy Collins,
Ken Boothe,
Sun City Girls,
Prince Buster,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stetsasonic,
Echospace,
Ludus,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
K-Klass,
Donny Hathaway,
Flamin' Groovies,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Los Fastidios,
Cymande,
Country Teasers,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bill Near,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Howard Jones,
These Immortal Souls,
Audionom,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Zeros,
The Doobie Brothers,
Second Layer,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.