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 Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 theremin 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 Terry Callier to the crunk 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
The Gories,
Cheater Slicks,
Carl Craig,
Eric Copeland,
Crispian St. Peters,
DNA,
Yazoo,
China Crisis,
Scion,
Ken Boothe,
Lindisfarne,
Donny Hathaway,
Dark Day,
Theoretical Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
Quando Quango,
Shuggie Otis,
The Moleskins,
The Sonics,
Scott Walker,
The Blackbyrds,
DJ Style,
Interpol,
Fear,
The Grass Roots,
The Motions,
Khruangbin,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Womack,
The Five Americans,
Adolescents,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
FM Einheit,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marc Almond,
Soulsonic Force,
Joy Division,
Ornette Coleman,
Icehouse,
Loose Ends,
The Leaves,
Bluetip,
the Bar-Kays,
LL Cool J,
The Invisible,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Deakin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Happenings,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bill Wells,
Arthur Verocai,
Bobby Sherman,
Brand Nubian,
Flamin' Groovies,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.