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 Romania and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 arpeggiator 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 The Mighty Diamonds 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-Ray Spex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Arthur Verocai,
Byron Stingily,
Joey Negro,
Masters at Work,
Scratch Acid,
The Evens,
Scion,
Dead Boys,
Scrapy,
Half Japanese,
Eden Ahbez,
Rufus Thomas,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lightning Bolt,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sight & Sound,
Jeff Lynne,
Ponytail,
Aloha Tigers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eric Copeland,
Vladislav Delay,
Interpol,
T. Rex,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roxy Music,
Depeche Mode,
Suicide,
Radiopuhelimet,
Yellowson,
Parry Music,
Toni Rubio,
Jimmy McGriff,
Index,
The Monks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ronan,
Deakin,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ken Boothe,
Donald Byrd,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Wolf Eyes,
Bill Wells,
Tubeway Army,
The Blues Magoos,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Vogues,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
David Axelrod,
Arab on Radar,
Sonic Youth,
X-Ray Spex,
R.M.O.,
The Human League,
Organ,
Wings,
The Fire Engines,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.