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 Russia and from London.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ornette Coleman to the grunge 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
Unrelated Segments,
The United States of America,
The Grass Roots,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Birthday Party,
Blossom Toes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Davy DMX,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Monks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fela Kuti,
Moebius,
Jeff Lynne,
Danielle Patucci,
Alphaville,
New Age Steppers,
Tres Demented,
Mars,
Amazonics,
The Names,
Unwound,
Roxette,
Bad Manners,
Little Man,
Boredoms,
Loose Ends,
Eric Dolphy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Alison Limerick,
The Misunderstood,
The Remains,
Circle Jerks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Brick,
T. Rex,
Yaz,
Nico,
Dark Day,
The Busters,
The Sonics,
Buzzcocks,
The Divine Comedy,
Sonny Sharrock,
DJ Sneak,
Jandek,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ossler,
Robert Wyatt,
The Raincoats,
Von Mondo,
Sex Pistols,
Con Funk Shun,
Ronnie Foster,
Lungfish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Johnny Osbourne,
Amon Düül,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.