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 Andorra and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the punk 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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Colin Newman,
Quando Quango,
OOIOO,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ohio Players,
Interpol,
Pere Ubu,
The Kinks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
T. Rex,
Flash Fearless,
Babytalk,
Minutemen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Toasters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Harry Pussy,
Brand Nubian,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lucky Dragons,
The Five Americans,
Zero Boys,
The Move,
Desert Stars,
Nas,
AZ,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Y Pants,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Modern Lovers,
Max Romeo,
Derrick May,
Gang Starr,
Sugar Minott,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hasil Adkins,
Henry Cow,
The Mummies,
Fat Boys,
Fear,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dark Day,
A Certain Ratio,
Whodini,
The Monks,
Loose Ends,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
L. Decosne,
The Seeds,
D'Angelo,
Byron Stingily,
Maurizio,
The Tremeloes,
Piero Umiliani,
Japan,
Ten City,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.