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 Saudi Arabia 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
The Index,
Black Bananas,
Janne Schatter,
Lyres,
The Tremeloes,
Stiv Bators,
the Association,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Archie Shepp,
Jawbox,
Moby Grape,
Soulsonic Force,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Searchers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Vladislav Delay,
Con Funk Shun,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Monks,
Second Layer,
Negative Approach,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
A Certain Ratio,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Zeros,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pulsallama,
Tres Demented,
Soul Sonic Force,
Crash Course in Science,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
the Normal,
Suicide,
Maurizio,
Lungfish,
Masters at Work,
Barrington Levy,
Eli Mardock,
Blancmange,
Marshall Jefferson,
Public Enemy,
John Holt,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sound Behaviour,
Peter & Gordon,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Harpers Bizarre,
Parry Music,
Sex Pistols,
U.S. Maple,
Roxette,
the Soft Cell,
The Birthday Party,
Audionom,
Mandrill,
Fugazi,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.