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 Cape Verde and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 linndrum 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 Deadbeat to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen 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?
Procol Harum,
The Zeros,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Carl Craig,
Joey Negro,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Womack,
The New Christs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dual Sessions,
John Cale,
Soulsonic Force,
Black Pus,
Matthew Halsall,
Todd Terry,
Robert Hood,
The Litter,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ronnie Foster,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
UT,
Whodini,
The Stooges,
Robert Görl,
Skriet,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bush Tetras,
Neu!,
X-Ray Spex,
Altered Images,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Durutti Column,
Y Pants,
Charles Mingus,
Blossom Toes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nick Fraelich,
Tomorrow,
The Saints,
Scrapy,
Pagans,
One Last Wish,
Sixth Finger,
The Doors,
Jawbox,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Althea and Donna,
Soft Cell,
Magma,
The Gories,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
KRS-One,
Ponytail,
Minnie Riperton,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
L. Decosne,
La Düsseldorf,
Magazine,
Hasil Adkins,
Scan 7,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.