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 Cape Verde and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Rekid 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario 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?
Brick,
Angry Samoans,
A Certain Ratio,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Joey Negro,
Sound Behaviour,
Monks,
The Leaves,
Skaos,
The Fall,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Little Man,
Todd Rundgren,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marmalade,
Aloha Tigers,
Los Fastidios,
Sandy B,
Warren Ellis,
Arthur Verocai,
Accadde A,
Crime,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mark Hollis,
Severed Heads,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Detroit Cobras,
Stetsasonic,
Bauhaus,
Black Moon,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Last Poets,
Lou Christie,
Au Pairs,
Absolute Body Control,
Tres Demented,
Suicide,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Knickerbockers,
Negative Approach,
Television,
Mo-Dettes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Hasil Adkins,
Smog,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cheater Slicks,
Y Pants,
Lindisfarne,
MC5,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mandrill,
The Dave Clark Five,
Howard Jones,
June Days,
Ohio Players,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.