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 Marshall Islands and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Seoul.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Buckinghams to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
The Music Machine,
Iggy Pop,
Moss Icon,
This Heat,
Ice-T,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Grauzone,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Chris Corsano,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Radiopuhelimet,
Joyce Sims,
Q65,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bobby Sherman,
T. Rex,
Goldenarms,
Black Moon,
Unrelated Segments,
The Smiths,
Moebius,
Cymande,
The Evens,
Minnie Riperton,
Swell Maps,
Fat Boys,
Chris & Cosey,
Rites of Spring,
Delon & Dalcan,
David Bowie,
Barry Ungar,
Smog,
The Moleskins,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jacob Miller,
The Names,
The Golliwogs,
Inner City,
Angry Samoans,
The Buckinghams,
Peter and Kerry,
Lower 48,
Banda Bassotti,
Sam Rivers,
Camouflage,
Bill Near,
Blossom Toes,
Reagan Youth,
Bob Dylan,
Flipper,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kool Moe Dee,
Henry Cow,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Thee Headcoats,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Slits,
The Residents,
Wings,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.