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 Belgium and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fatback Band to the grime 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Frankie Knuckles,
Chris Corsano,
David Bowie,
Fear,
Blossom Toes,
Moebius,
Oblivians,
Procol Harum,
New Age Steppers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Delta 5,
Soulsonic Force,
Liliput,
Jeff Lynne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
UT,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lyres,
Moby Grape,
The Dead C,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobby Sherman,
Henry Cow,
Pere Ubu,
Japan,
Anakelly,
Parry Music,
The Dave Clark Five,
Siglo XX,
The Moody Blues,
Scion,
Kas Product,
U.S. Maple,
Kenny Larkin,
The Sonics,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Make Up,
KRS-One,
The Cramps,
Babytalk,
Joensuu 1685,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Angry Samoans,
Alison Limerick,
Peter & Gordon,
Barrington Levy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jerry Gold Smith,
AZ,
The Pretty Things,
Letta Mbulu,
Morten Harket,
This Heat,
the Slits,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Joyce Sims,
B.T. Express,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Archie Shepp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.