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 Laos and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Glasgow.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Interpol to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eurythmics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Tres Demented,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pagans,
Joensuu 1685,
The Cowsills,
Marvin Gaye,
Mary Jane Girls,
Erasure,
Junior Murvin,
Todd Rundgren,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Section 25,
Popol Vuh,
Hashim,
The American Breed,
Flamin' Groovies,
Black Moon,
KRS-One,
Ultra Naté,
Wolf Eyes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mr. Review,
UT,
Kerrie Biddell,
Curtis Mayfield,
Swans,
Tears for Fears,
Jacob Miller,
Moss Icon,
The Vogues,
Mantronix,
The Doors,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blancmange,
Loose Ends,
Neil Young,
Pere Ubu,
Barry Ungar,
Country Joe & The Fish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Simply Red,
Ponytail,
New York Dolls,
Freddie Wadling,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sonic Youth,
Goldenarms,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Five Americans,
Accadde A,
Urselle,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mars,
The Wake,
H. Thieme,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marcia Griffiths,
Donny Hathaway,
L. Decosne,
F. McDonald,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.