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 Latvia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 the Bar-Kays to the rap 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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ten City 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Porter Ricks,
The Victims,
Skriet,
Chris Corsano,
The Gladiators,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Detroit Cobras,
Marine Girls,
Yellowson,
Ornette Coleman,
The Move,
Malaria!,
Japan,
Kas Product,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Boredoms,
Tropical Tobacco,
Connie Case,
Fela Kuti,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marcia Griffiths,
Livin' Joy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Swell Maps,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Kinks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eric Copeland,
Roxy Music,
Whodini,
Scan 7,
Max Romeo,
Angry Samoans,
Scrapy,
the Bar-Kays,
Ten City,
Sparks,
Neu!,
Jacques Brel,
a-ha,
Lalann,
The Fall,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
John Cale,
the Slits,
Johnny Osbourne,
Patti Smith,
The Monochrome Set,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Holt,
The Litter,
Crime,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Nils Olav,
Black Bananas,
The Blackbyrds,
Sixth Finger,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.