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 Zambia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Kaleidoscope,
Blossom Toes,
Quando Quango,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Desert Stars,
Index,
Popol Vuh,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Durutti Column,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Five Americans,
The Barracudas,
PIL,
Al Stewart,
The Pretty Things,
Harry Pussy,
New Order,
Slave,
Stiv Bators,
Bill Wells,
Rhythm & Sound,
Drive Like Jehu,
Easy Going,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kerri Chandler,
Ronan,
Max Romeo,
Boz Scaggs,
The Young Rascals,
Bizarre Inc.,
Dawn Penn,
Metal Thangz,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Smoke,
Leonard Cohen,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kayak,
Jimmy McGriff,
Funkadelic,
Ultimate Spinach,
Carl Craig,
Eric B and Rakim,
Cal Tjader,
The Associates,
Interpol,
Man Eating Sloth,
Johnny Osbourne,
Crispy Ambulance,
Donny Hathaway,
Yusef Lateef,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aural Exciters,
Ralphi Rosario,
Robert Görl,
Reuben Wilson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Alphaville,
The Music Machine,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.