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 Nepal and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the grime 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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Tubeway Army,
Graham Central Station,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Electric Prunes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Second Layer,
Rod Modell,
Josef K,
Dennis Brown,
Black Pus,
Organ,
The American Breed,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dual Sessions,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Divine Comedy,
Oblivians,
The Fire Engines,
Aaron Thompson,
Faust,
Mr. Review,
Rapeman,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Foxx,
Rufus Thomas,
Mars,
Jerry's Kids,
Stiv Bators,
The Residents,
Sound Behaviour,
Buzzcocks,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Toasters,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bronski Beat,
Morten Harket,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sun Ra,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Smog,
Eden Ahbez,
Livin' Joy,
Qualms,
Main Source,
Brothers Johnson,
kango's stein massive,
Agent Orange,
Minnie Riperton,
EPMD,
Dead Boys,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Althea and Donna,
Nico,
Mantronix,
Spandau Ballet,
The Selecter,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.