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 Spain and from Delhi.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Public Enemy to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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 Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minny Pops,
a-ha,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gerry Rafferty,
Newcleus,
The Trojans,
Jacques Brel,
Sister Nancy,
Yellowson,
Robert Hood,
Alphaville,
Kevin Saunderson,
Radiohead,
Camberwell Now,
Black Sheep,
Lyres,
Don Cherry,
Wolf Eyes,
Marine Girls,
Letta Mbulu,
Terry Callier,
Roy Ayers,
This Heat,
Funky Four + One,
Brass Construction,
Nation of Ulysses,
Suicide,
Black Moon,
Magma,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pantaleimon,
The Cowsills,
Hashim,
Al Stewart,
Gregory Isaacs,
Make Up,
Prince Buster,
Thompson Twins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The American Breed,
The Last Poets,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ken Boothe,
The Happenings,
Model 500,
Metal Thangz,
The Leaves,
Glenn Branca,
Slave,
Can,
The Slits,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Silicon Teens,
The Mummies,
Flipper,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wasted Youth,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Grass Roots,
Donald Byrd,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.