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 Denmark 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Minny Pops,
Von Mondo,
Soft Machine,
Fatback Band,
L. Decosne,
The Dirtbombs,
Supertramp,
Pulsallama,
Y Pants,
Whodini,
Warsaw,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mad Mike,
The Real Kids,
Johnny Osbourne,
Be Bop Deluxe,
John Lydon,
The Names,
Mandrill,
Royal Trux,
Procol Harum,
R.M.O.,
Crash Course in Science,
Technova,
Tubeway Army,
Japan,
Chris & Cosey,
Reuben Wilson,
Outsiders,
Derrick May,
Metal Thangz,
Oneida,
The Birthday Party,
Bauhaus,
Pierre Henry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Todd Terry,
The Human League,
Donald Byrd,
Minutemen,
Neil Young,
Skarface,
Johnny Clarke,
Prince Buster,
Spandau Ballet,
K-Klass,
The Kinks,
Echospace,
Pole,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Divine Comedy,
The Misunderstood,
Aswad,
The Blues Magoos,
X-102,
Sällskapet,
The Selecter,
Scratch Acid,
Andrew Hill,
Infiniti,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.