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 South Sudan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba 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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Procol Harum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
KRS-One,
Bill Wells,
The Music Machine,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Brass Construction,
Trumans Water,
Bob Dylan,
Robert Wyatt,
Erykah Badu,
Boz Scaggs,
The Residents,
Blancmange,
Scion,
Lindisfarne,
Black Moon,
The Grass Roots,
Yellowson,
Tomorrow,
Con Funk Shun,
Neil Young,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
David Bowie,
Yaz,
Pierre Henry,
Byron Stingily,
Peter and Kerry,
Janne Schatter,
Lyres,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Angels of Light,
Chrome,
Arab on Radar,
Kerri Chandler,
The Pretty Things,
The Busters,
Fugazi,
Kaleidoscope,
the Normal,
Goldenarms,
Mo-Dettes,
The Leaves,
Black Flag,
Stetsasonic,
B.T. Express,
Robert Hood,
CMW,
Marvin Gaye,
Cymande,
Bootsy Collins,
Ponytail,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Brick,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fire Engines,
Marine Girls,
Fela Kuti,
Suicide,
DJ Style,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Blossom Toes,
Barrington Levy,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.