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 Zambia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Cure to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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?
Man Eating Sloth,
Crooked Eye,
Marcia Griffiths,
Blake Baxter,
Morten Harket,
The Knickerbockers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cramps,
Negative Approach,
Lungfish,
Brick,
Jerry's Kids,
Wings,
Robert Wyatt,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
A Certain Ratio,
Harry Pussy,
Rites of Spring,
Yazoo,
Icehouse,
Neil Young,
The Real Kids,
Camberwell Now,
Drive Like Jehu,
Charles Mingus,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Anthony Braxton,
The Evens,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Accadde A,
Man Parrish,
The Walker Brothers,
Royal Trux,
Arcadia,
Amon Düül II,
Aloha Tigers,
Wolf Eyes,
Tomorrow,
Bill Wells,
Harmonia,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
8 Eyed Spy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pet Shop Boys,
Silicon Teens,
Aural Exciters,
the Bar-Kays,
ABC,
Letta Mbulu,
Alphaville,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bauhaus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Deadbeat,
Organ,
Rapeman,
MDC,
Pagans,
Byron Stingily,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.