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 Marshall Islands and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Glasgow and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Marmalade 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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Soulsonic Force,
Skarface,
Soft Machine,
Wasted Youth,
Ultra Naté,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Monochrome Set,
Soft Cell,
Fela Kuti,
Camouflage,
Arcadia,
Ludus,
The Sonics,
Section 25,
Malaria!,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eric B and Rakim,
Symarip,
The Modern Lovers,
Royal Trux,
Silicon Teens,
KRS-One,
Johnny Clarke,
Eric Dolphy,
John Cale,
DJ Sneak,
Spoonie Gee,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scratch Acid,
Anakelly,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Zero Boys,
Niagra,
A Certain Ratio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Y Pants,
The Beau Brummels,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Byrd,
Absolute Body Control,
Warren Ellis,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Neu!,
The Red Krayola,
Skriet,
Faraquet,
Heaven 17,
Wolf Eyes,
Talk Talk,
The Gories,
Ronan,
Aural Exciters,
Ituana,
Dual Sessions,
Los Fastidios,
ABBA,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Junior Murvin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.