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 Gabon and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb 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 Simply Red to the punk 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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
T.S.O.L.,
Beasts of Bourbon,
David Axelrod,
Amon Düül,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Letta Mbulu,
David Bowie,
Rakim,
Donald Byrd,
Fat Boys,
Chrome,
Oblivians,
The Pretty Things,
The Five Americans,
Roger Hodgson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sparks,
JFA,
Lightning Bolt,
The Gories,
Kerrie Biddell,
Television,
Aural Exciters,
The Star Department,
Sandy B,
Funkadelic,
Tommy Roe,
Pet Shop Boys,
Josef K,
The Fire Engines,
Bootsy Collins,
Half Japanese,
Bauhaus,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
China Crisis,
Peter & Gordon,
F. McDonald,
Gang Starr,
E-Dancer,
Scratch Acid,
Monks,
Masters at Work,
The Slackers,
Pole,
Slick Rick,
Niagra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Remains,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mark Hollis,
Oneida,
Ralphi Rosario,
New Order,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Smog,
Rekid,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wolf Eyes,
Boz Scaggs,
PIL,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.