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 Samoa and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Sandy B to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Lou Reed,
Gang Green,
Donald Byrd,
Brass Construction,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lower 48,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Pretty Things,
Nick Fraelich,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
AZ,
Delta 5,
Sarah Menescal,
Vainqueur,
The Standells,
Masters at Work,
The Toasters,
Tomorrow,
Cameo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Joy Division,
the Slits,
The Techniques,
The United States of America,
The Barracudas,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gang Starr,
The Music Machine,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pantytec,
Pylon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Arthur Verocai,
The Cure,
The Birthday Party,
Bootsy Collins,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Moon,
Wasted Youth,
Colin Newman,
Lakeside,
Wire,
Pharoah Sanders,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Faust,
Jerry's Kids,
Rhythm & Sound,
Talk Talk,
Guru Guru,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Byron Stingily,
The Seeds,
Nico,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joe Finger,
Mr. Review,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Doors,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Remains,
The Dirtbombs,
the Bar-Kays,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.