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 St Lucia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Soft Cell to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Patti Smith,
Trumans Water,
Ken Boothe,
Morten Harket,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Nik Kershaw,
Los Fastidios,
Connie Case,
Colin Newman,
Andrew Hill,
Donald Byrd,
Barrington Levy,
Girls At Our Best!,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Flash Fearless,
FM Einheit,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Young Marble Giants,
Depeche Mode,
Derrick Morgan,
Leonard Cohen,
Quando Quango,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
T. Rex,
Tropical Tobacco,
Suburban Knight,
Make Up,
Soft Cell,
Janne Schatter,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Dead Boys,
Fad Gadget,
DJ Sneak,
Hasil Adkins,
Mantronix,
Roxette,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kerrie Biddell,
K-Klass,
Average White Band,
Matthew Halsall,
The Slits,
Outsiders,
Harry Pussy,
Michelle Simonal,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Music Machine,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Sound,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Gories,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minutemen,
Gichy Dan,
Scientists,
The Monks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Easy Going,
Ludus,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.