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 Japan and from New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 David Bowie to the techno 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
Fear,
Arcadia,
Cheater Slicks,
Lyres,
Y Pants,
Rites of Spring,
Magma,
Deadbeat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wally Richardson,
Kerri Chandler,
The Fire Engines,
U.S. Maple,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Move,
Pere Ubu,
Zapp,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Q65,
Joensuu 1685,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
June Days,
Cecil Taylor,
Pantaleimon,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Golliwogs,
The Martian,
Pierre Henry,
Ronan,
Donald Byrd,
The Durutti Column,
The Residents,
Pagans,
Index,
Organ,
Gang of Four,
Funkadelic,
Marc Almond,
The Tremeloes,
Sällskapet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bronski Beat,
Rufus Thomas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Piero Umiliani,
Fela Kuti,
Theoretical Girls,
Bill Wells,
Parry Music,
the Sonics,
Janne Schatter,
Heaven 17,
Los Fastidios,
The Pretty Things,
Soft Machine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cameo,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.