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 Mauritius and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Graham Central Station to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Quadrant,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cybotron,
Pussy Galore,
Alice Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Moody Blues,
Tommy Roe,
Smog,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Yaz,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
JFA,
Angry Samoans,
Model 500,
Lalann,
The Monks,
Sam Rivers,
Aloha Tigers,
China Crisis,
Nas,
Procol Harum,
The Fire Engines,
T. Rex,
Bluetip,
Heaven 17,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pylon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Organ,
The Gun Club,
David Axelrod,
Kurtis Blow,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Black Dice,
Funky Four + One,
Scan 7,
Nik Kershaw,
Joyce Sims,
James White and The Blacks,
Harry Pussy,
Todd Terry,
DJ Style,
Theoretical Girls,
Accadde A,
Faraquet,
Bauhaus,
Graham Central Station,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bobby Sherman,
Royal Trux,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.