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 Czech Republic and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the rock 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Scrapy,
Bill Wells,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Piero Umiliani,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Leonard Cohen,
Lungfish,
The Count Five,
Angry Samoans,
Donny Hathaway,
Ossler,
The Stooges,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nation of Ulysses,
Metal Thangz,
Tom Boy,
Rekid,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eurythmics,
Oblivians,
Royal Trux,
Nico,
Wings,
10cc,
Dual Sessions,
Roxy Music,
Porter Ricks,
Model 500,
B.T. Express,
Bobby Womack,
The Offenders,
Rosa Yemen,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Real Kids,
The Mummies,
Scott Walker,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Blues Magoos,
Severed Heads,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Black Dice,
Soulsonic Force,
Wally Richardson,
Marine Girls,
Japan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nick Fraelich,
Suburban Knight,
the Human League,
Chrome,
The Trojans,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Los Fastidios,
Crooked Eye,
Iggy Pop,
Barbara Tucker,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cameo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Smiths,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.