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 Afghanistan and from Salvador.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Echospace to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
kango's stein massive,
Lakeside,
Matthew Bourne,
Barbara Tucker,
Crispy Ambulance,
Althea and Donna,
Bill Wells,
The Smiths,
Henry Cow,
Yazoo,
Talk Talk,
Moebius,
Roy Ayers,
World's Most,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tommy Roe,
Kerri Chandler,
Faraquet,
Roxy Music,
Deadbeat,
New Order,
Scion,
Eric Copeland,
Scrapy,
Moss Icon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Alice Coltrane,
The Fortunes,
Byron Stingily,
Fluxion,
David Bowie,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Wings,
Joey Negro,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Saccharine Trust,
Circle Jerks,
Index,
Michelle Simonal,
the Association,
Ohio Players,
48th St. Collective,
Fear,
F. McDonald,
Patti Smith,
These Immortal Souls,
Marvin Gaye,
The Wake,
Dorothy Ashby,
Matthew Halsall,
Ossler,
The Fuzztones,
The Electric Prunes,
Desert Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Reuben Wilson,
Excepter,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.