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 Afghanistan and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fear to the rock 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Young Marble Giants,
Royal Trux,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
David Bowie,
Wings,
Big Daddy Kane,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Steve Hackett,
Pantytec,
Crooked Eye,
Das Ding,
The Gories,
The Residents,
Radiohead,
Lee Hazlewood,
Brothers Johnson,
Deadbeat,
Todd Rundgren,
Neu!,
Fad Gadget,
The Move,
Magazine,
Matthew Bourne,
Ultimate Spinach,
Aaron Thompson,
Ponytail,
Hardrive,
Whodini,
Youth Brigade,
The Monochrome Set,
Masters at Work,
The Saints,
Slick Rick,
The Kinks,
Second Layer,
Donald Byrd,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Techniques,
Infiniti,
DNA,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Funky Four + One,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Dead C,
A Certain Ratio,
Delta 5,
Make Up,
Sällskapet,
Jeff Lynne,
Pulsallama,
The Fortunes,
Minutemen,
The Walker Brothers,
Crime,
Scrapy,
The Moody Blues,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.