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 Rwanda and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Mary Jane Girls to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Adolescents,
Graham Central Station,
The Doors,
Jeff Lynne,
Aswad,
Soulsonic Force,
Traffic Nightmare,
Man Eating Sloth,
Charles Mingus,
Massinfluence,
The Cure,
Simply Red,
The Happenings,
One Last Wish,
The Birthday Party,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cameo,
The Grass Roots,
Crispy Ambulance,
China Crisis,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Matthew Bourne,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Maleditus Sound,
Silicon Teens,
the Swans,
Crime,
ABC,
Lakeside,
Little Man,
Deakin,
Drive Like Jehu,
Toni Rubio,
Japan,
Soft Machine,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Nik Kershaw,
Soul II Soul,
The Blackbyrds,
Babytalk,
Black Pus,
Nils Olav,
Josef K,
Rufus Thomas,
Derrick Morgan,
Desert Stars,
Loose Ends,
Tommy Roe,
Bobby Byrd,
The Golliwogs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pantaleimon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Funkadelic,
H. Thieme,
KRS-One,
The Pop Group,
The Residents,
Blake Baxter,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.