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 France and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Glasgow.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gang Green to the grime 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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pet Shop Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Electric Prunes,
Donny Hathaway,
Warsaw,
Sex Pistols,
Black Moon,
Morten Harket,
Amon Düül II,
Model 500,
Jeff Lynne,
Lightning Bolt,
Jacques Brel,
kango's stein massive,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Absolute Body Control,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
In Retrospect,
The Searchers,
The Names,
Roger Hodgson,
Scientists,
Kurtis Blow,
New York Dolls,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wally Richardson,
Graham Central Station,
DJ Sneak,
Alison Limerick,
Piero Umiliani,
Ralphi Rosario,
Charles Mingus,
Spoonie Gee,
Warren Ellis,
Severed Heads,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pet Shop Boys,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barclay James Harvest,
B.T. Express,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Radio Birdman,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Brothers Johnson,
Marmalade,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Section 25,
Motorama,
Au Pairs,
The Grass Roots,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Toasters,
The Fall,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tommy Roe,
The Barracudas,
China Crisis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Smoke,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.