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 Tunisia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 The Star Department to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Tears for Fears,
The Sonics,
Can,
The Buckinghams,
The Fall,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Smiths,
Pere Ubu,
Nik Kershaw,
Jeff Lynne,
Althea and Donna,
Graham Central Station,
Marcia Griffiths,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cameo,
Scion,
the Bar-Kays,
A Certain Ratio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Derrick Morgan,
Goldenarms,
Groovy Waters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Reuben Wilson,
K-Klass,
Mantronix,
F. McDonald,
Maurizio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Colin Newman,
Rekid,
Deakin,
Fela Kuti,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Deadbeat,
Lungfish,
Simply Red,
Malaria!,
Andrew Hill,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Kaleidoscope,
Adolescents,
Massinfluence,
The Offenders,
Angry Samoans,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Charles Mingus,
The Names,
John Coltrane,
One Last Wish,
Royal Trux,
Soulsonic Force,
Bush Tetras,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kerrie Biddell,
Carl Craig,
Joey Negro,
Q and Not U,
Q65,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground.
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.