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 Armenia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Blues Magoos to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
The New Christs,
Wolf Eyes,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Music Machine,
Davy DMX,
The Walker Brothers,
The Smoke,
X-102,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Pus,
The J.B.'s,
Scrapy,
Arcadia,
Warren Ellis,
The Red Krayola,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fuzztones,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Dawn Penn,
The Electric Prunes,
David Axelrod,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Five Americans,
Grauzone,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Harry Pussy,
DJ Sneak,
Joe Smooth,
The Misunderstood,
Maurizio,
Sight & Sound,
Kas Product,
The Zeros,
Hasil Adkins,
The Human League,
Roxette,
Adolescents,
DJ Style,
Janne Schatter,
Pagans,
Blake Baxter,
The Names,
Fela Kuti,
Heaven 17,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Starr,
New Order,
Peter & Gordon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pylon,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Crooked Eye,
John Lydon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jacques Brel,
One Last Wish,
a-ha,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.