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 Sudan and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Wolf Eyes,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Seeds,
Shoche,
The Invisible,
The American Breed,
T. Rex,
Josef K,
LL Cool J,
Banda Bassotti,
The Divine Comedy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Soft Cell,
The Dead C,
Grandmaster Flash,
X-101,
The Golliwogs,
Man Parrish,
Heaven 17,
Lyres,
DJ Style,
Gang Starr,
Black Moon,
The Beau Brummels,
Matthew Halsall,
Funky Four + One,
The Black Dice,
Country Teasers,
Essential Logic,
Spandau Ballet,
Crispy Ambulance,
Barry Ungar,
The Durutti Column,
The Music Machine,
AZ,
Robert Wyatt,
Brothers Johnson,
Malaria!,
Boz Scaggs,
Barbara Tucker,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quantec,
The Residents,
Average White Band,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Can,
Trumans Water,
Lee Hazlewood,
Al Stewart,
Los Fastidios,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Loose Ends,
Joe Finger,
The Pretty Things,
The Moody Blues,
10cc,
Gichy Dan,
China Crisis,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.