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 Italy and from London.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
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 clarinet 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the punk 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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Babytalk,
Trumans Water,
Judy Mowatt,
The Monks,
Q65,
Malaria!,
Avey Tare,
DJ Sneak,
Oneida,
H. Thieme,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Alphaville,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Roger Hodgson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Detroit Cobras,
a-ha,
Sparks,
Roy Ayers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Organ,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joyce Sims,
Quando Quango,
Colin Newman,
Amazonics,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tres Demented,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crash Course in Science,
The Blackbyrds,
Harmonia,
U.S. Maple,
Tears for Fears,
Skriet,
Absolute Body Control,
the Bar-Kays,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
KRS-One,
The Golliwogs,
Make Up,
Reuben Wilson,
Maurizio,
Rosa Yemen,
Todd Terry,
F. McDonald,
The Sonics,
Spoonie Gee,
LL Cool J,
The Trojans,
Brick,
Intrusion,
Quadrant,
Todd Rundgren,
Hardrive,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.