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 Egypt and from New York.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 R.M.O. to the techno 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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 10cc 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Soul Sonic Force,
Man Parrish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
DJ Sneak,
Niagra,
Thompson Twins,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Spoonie Gee,
The Busters,
Lalann,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sound Behaviour,
Urselle,
Blancmange,
the Human League,
Howard Jones,
Rosa Yemen,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fad Gadget,
The Monks,
MC5,
The Fortunes,
Drexciya,
The Golliwogs,
Roxette,
The Misunderstood,
the Slits,
Oblivians,
Los Fastidios,
Nick Fraelich,
Saccharine Trust,
Von Mondo,
Jimmy McGriff,
Mission of Burma,
Eric Dolphy,
Monolake,
Y Pants,
Jacques Brel,
Audionom,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Index,
Mark Hollis,
Can,
Albert Ayler,
Gang Starr,
Masters at Work,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lindisfarne,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
ABBA,
Sonic Youth,
The Dave Clark Five,
Black Bananas,
Cal Tjader,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Sound,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
David Bowie,
Matthew Bourne,
Pantytec,
Unwound,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.