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 Venezuela and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 guitar 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the grime 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Smog,
Marvin Gaye,
Laurel Aitken,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Sherman,
Porter Ricks,
Ossler,
Roxy Music,
Minnie Riperton,
L. Decosne,
Tim Buckley,
Lightning Bolt,
The Monochrome Set,
Kas Product,
Little Man,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ludus,
Thompson Twins,
The Selecter,
Man Parrish,
Alison Limerick,
Nik Kershaw,
Mars,
The Pretty Things,
Oneida,
The Toasters,
The Moody Blues,
Sparks,
Pole,
Sam Rivers,
Chris Corsano,
The Red Krayola,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Brothers Johnson,
The Gap Band,
Ultra Naté,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Vogues,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Peter & Gordon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Swans,
MC5,
Joe Finger,
Babytalk,
Fat Boys,
Mantronix,
Fad Gadget,
ABC,
Avey Tare,
Gang Starr,
Infiniti,
Shuggie Otis,
the Fania All-Stars,
Parry Music,
Max Romeo,
The Fire Engines,
Graham Central Station,
Black Flag,
Suicide,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.