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 Estonia and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Cymande to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 AZ. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
Yusef Lateef,
Cheater Slicks,
Grey Daturas,
Bill Near,
T.S.O.L.,
Drexciya,
Bush Tetras,
One Last Wish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fela Kuti,
Albert Ayler,
Amazonics,
The Gun Club,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mr. Review,
Heaven 17,
Half Japanese,
Marmalade,
Mark Hollis,
The Smiths,
Eve St. Jones,
Minutemen,
Bang On A Can,
B.T. Express,
Dual Sessions,
Todd Terry,
Alison Limerick,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Traffic Nightmare,
Moss Icon,
Fluxion,
Surgeon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pantaleimon,
Jerry's Kids,
Lou Christie,
The Pretty Things,
Delta 5,
Basic Channel,
Outsiders,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Moebius,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Human League,
Guru Guru,
Parry Music,
Matthew Halsall,
Eric B and Rakim,
FM Einheit,
Robert Görl,
The Blackbyrds,
Funky Four + One,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tears for Fears,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joe Smooth,
Glenn Branca,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pole,
The Martian,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.