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 Manchester.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dead C to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 FM Einheit. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Depeche Mode,
the Fania All-Stars,
Deakin,
Max Romeo,
Delta 5,
Arab on Radar,
Funkadelic,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lou Reed,
Jeff Lynne,
the Association,
Don Cherry,
Kayak,
Jacques Brel,
Laurel Aitken,
Iggy Pop,
Rites of Spring,
Jawbox,
Section 25,
The Litter,
Faraquet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David Bowie,
Q and Not U,
Cecil Taylor,
Outsiders,
Tim Buckley,
Godley & Creme,
Quantec,
Guru Guru,
Bang On A Can,
Sixth Finger,
Porter Ricks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cameo,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bad Manners,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Dawn Penn,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Moon,
Von Mondo,
Alton Ellis,
AZ,
Liliput,
Alphaville,
Fad Gadget,
Ludus,
Minor Threat,
Eurythmics,
Barrington Levy,
John Holt,
Infiniti,
Con Funk Shun,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Evens,
John Coltrane,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.