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 Bolivia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 Manchester and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Spandau Ballet to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
Suicide,
Harry Pussy,
Sex Pistols,
Clear Light,
AZ,
The Monochrome Set,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kayak,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
June of 44,
The Skatalites,
Chris Corsano,
Glambeats Corp.,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Five Americans,
Quadrant,
Glenn Branca,
Joy Division,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Music Machine,
The J.B.'s,
Public Image Ltd.,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sällskapet,
The Cramps,
Camouflage,
Joe Finger,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Iggy Pop,
Faraquet,
Davy DMX,
The Real Kids,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dead Boys,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marc Almond,
Wolf Eyes,
The Electric Prunes,
The Happenings,
Mad Mike,
K-Klass,
Josef K,
Livin' Joy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Graham Central Station,
Idris Muhammad,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Reuben Wilson,
Sight & Sound,
Eurythmics,
Bush Tetras,
Alice Coltrane,
The Buckinghams,
Jesper Dahlback,
Peter & Gordon,
Public Enemy,
Chris & Cosey,
Cheater Slicks,
John Cale,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Pus,
Youth Brigade,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.