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 Uzbekistan and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 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 Lucky Dragons to the grime 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Man Parrish,
Fad Gadget,
Stereo Dub,
Quando Quango,
Scratch Acid,
T. Rex,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Connie Case,
Silicon Teens,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Talk Talk,
Adolescents,
Erasure,
Robert Wyatt,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Slits,
48th St. Collective,
Buzzcocks,
Flipper,
Mars,
Howard Jones,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gabor Szabo,
The American Breed,
Marine Girls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
David Bowie,
Arcadia,
Agitation Free,
Ituana,
Eric Dolphy,
Quadrant,
X-Ray Spex,
Eli Mardock,
Camouflage,
Slick Rick,
Traffic Nightmare,
Swans,
Roxy Music,
Con Funk Shun,
David McCallum,
The Trojans,
Darondo,
Suburban Knight,
Harmonia,
Stiv Bators,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Byrd,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Saints,
Soulsonic Force,
Vainqueur,
La Düsseldorf,
AZ,
UT,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cal Tjader,
Unrelated Segments,
One Last Wish,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.