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 Malaysia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Holger Czukay 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 Thompson Twins to the punk 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
the Normal,
The Martian,
Harmonia,
Cameo,
The Black Dice,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mandrill,
The Smiths,
Gabor Szabo,
Brand Nubian,
Marvin Gaye,
Amon Düül,
Neu!,
Bobby Sherman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Chris Corsano,
The Stooges,
Iggy Pop,
Fad Gadget,
Little Man,
Boogie Down Productions,
Henry Cow,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cal Tjader,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Misunderstood,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sällskapet,
Severed Heads,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Slave,
Terry Callier,
Piero Umiliani,
Suicide,
Maurizio,
Spoonie Gee,
Connie Case,
Tim Buckley,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Massinfluence,
The Knickerbockers,
Marmalade,
E-Dancer,
New York Dolls,
The Wake,
Faraquet,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Drexciya,
Reagan Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sandy B,
Franke,
Lungfish,
Darondo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
10cc,
Can,
La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf, La Düsseldorf.
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.