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 Japan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Brass Construction to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Eric Dolphy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joe Smooth,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pulsallama,
Masters at Work,
The Human League,
AZ,
The Remains,
Eurythmics,
The Cowsills,
Public Enemy,
Skriet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
10cc,
Connie Case,
John Lydon,
Ten City,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Alphaville,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Iggy Pop,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Morten Harket,
Althea and Donna,
Scott Walker,
The Gladiators,
Easy Going,
Terrestrial Tones,
Soft Machine,
Dark Day,
The Moody Blues,
Shoche,
Eden Ahbez,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Desert Stars,
The Cure,
Circle Jerks,
Vainqueur,
Outsiders,
Man Eating Sloth,
Camberwell Now,
Drive Like Jehu,
Parry Music,
Hot Snakes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eve St. Jones,
Donny Hathaway,
Terry Callier,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lindisfarne,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Symarip,
Alison Limerick,
The United States of America,
the Sonics,
Girls At Our Best!,
ABBA,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.