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 Qatar and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 synthesizer 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 Supertramp to the funk 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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
cv313,
X-Ray Spex,
Marcia Griffiths,
James White and The Blacks,
The Evens,
Eden Ahbez,
Tears for Fears,
The Monks,
Johnny Clarke,
Bluetip,
the Bar-Kays,
Brick,
Sex Pistols,
F. McDonald,
Eric Copeland,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ohio Players,
DNA,
Banda Bassotti,
AZ,
Von Mondo,
Soul II Soul,
Massinfluence,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Seeds,
Boz Scaggs,
Prince Buster,
The Divine Comedy,
Harry Pussy,
Rhythm & Sound,
The New Christs,
Newcleus,
Country Joe & The Fish,
a-ha,
Q65,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Residents,
Mary Jane Girls,
Stereo Dub,
Brass Construction,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fugazi,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Yaz,
Joyce Sims,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cymande,
Bobby Sherman,
Ronnie Foster,
Tropical Tobacco,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Black Pus,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jeff Mills,
Letta Mbulu,
Boogie Down Productions,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.