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 Namibia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Simply Red to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Warren Ellis,
Tommy Roe,
Index,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Junior Murvin,
Harry Pussy,
Gang Green,
James White and The Blacks,
Oneida,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Technova,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Monks,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Saints,
The Star Department,
Porter Ricks,
L. Decosne,
Tropical Tobacco,
Robert Wyatt,
Theoretical Girls,
Hoover,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kas Product,
La Düsseldorf,
Black Pus,
Sixth Finger,
The Walker Brothers,
Maleditus Sound,
Scrapy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sällskapet,
The Seeds,
The Gladiators,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Offenders,
Ultravox,
Flamin' Groovies,
Neu!,
Eric Copeland,
Piero Umiliani,
Motorama,
Reagan Youth,
Aloha Tigers,
The Neon Judgement,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rosa Yemen,
OOIOO,
Scion,
DJ Style,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tomorrow,
The Associates,
Bobby Sherman,
Echospace,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Electric Prunes,
The American Breed,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.