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 Algeria and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Fort Wilson Riot 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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Girls At Our Best!,
Simply Red,
Technova,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Amazonics,
The Names,
June of 44,
Mad Mike,
Accadde A,
JFA,
The Gladiators,
Glenn Branca,
Kurtis Blow,
Alison Limerick,
The Dirtbombs,
Index,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
La Düsseldorf,
The Stooges,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Buzzcocks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Theoretical Girls,
Arab on Radar,
Heaven 17,
The Modern Lovers,
The Dead C,
the Slits,
The Pop Group,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Cell,
The Victims,
Mary Jane Girls,
Neu!,
Colin Newman,
Liliput,
Black Bananas,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pole,
The Kinks,
Blossom Toes,
Tubeway Army,
Quantec,
Pagans,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Searchers,
Jesper Dahlback,
Aswad,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Laurel Aitken,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tom Boy,
Soft Machine,
Interpol,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.