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 Croatia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 Blossom Toes to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
Supertramp,
Buzzcocks,
Visage,
Whodini,
Stetsasonic,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Harpers Bizarre,
Anthony Braxton,
Johnny Clarke,
Sam Rivers,
Gichy Dan,
Steve Hackett,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tim Buckley,
David Bowie,
Alice Coltrane,
MDC,
Janne Schatter,
Harmonia,
Nik Kershaw,
The Moleskins,
Clear Light,
The Pretty Things,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Dirtbombs,
Slave,
Sugar Minott,
Pantytec,
Brand Nubian,
Derrick Morgan,
The Mummies,
Davy DMX,
Drexciya,
Minnie Riperton,
Deepchord,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Black Moon,
The Misunderstood,
The Residents,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Slick Rick,
Schoolly D,
Amazonics,
Make Up,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Barry Ungar,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bronski Beat,
Yusef Lateef,
Scrapy,
Stiv Bators,
The American Breed,
Man Eating Sloth,
Swans,
Bobby Byrd,
Arcadia,
Godley & Creme,
The Fall,
Warsaw,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.