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 Indonesia and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Lyres to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Thee Headcoats,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Underground Resistance,
Ituana,
Make Up,
The United States of America,
Camberwell Now,
June Days,
Qualms,
Index,
Maleditus Sound,
Banda Bassotti,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rakim,
The Monochrome Set,
Kayak,
MDC,
The Toasters,
Hoover,
Excepter,
Nik Kershaw,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Roy Ayers,
The Gun Club,
Terry Callier,
Dark Day,
Pussy Galore,
The Doors,
Grauzone,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bill Near,
Marc Almond,
Wire,
Wings,
Jacques Brel,
Archie Shepp,
Ronnie Foster,
Nils Olav,
Quantec,
Anthony Braxton,
8 Eyed Spy,
Erasure,
Slave,
Easy Going,
B.T. Express,
Prince Buster,
New Order,
Freddie Wadling,
the Bar-Kays,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Tropical Tobacco,
One Last Wish,
Cheater Slicks,
The Divine Comedy,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Cowsills,
Soulsonic Force,
ABC,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.