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 Vanuatu and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 arpeggiator 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 The J.B.'s to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacob Miller record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Pole,
Lindisfarne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Birthday Party,
Index,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cecil Taylor,
This Heat,
Little Man,
Electric Prunes,
Sixth Finger,
The Slits,
Ponytail,
Slick Rick,
Swell Maps,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Wolf Eyes,
Nico,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Pretty Things,
Marine Girls,
Spandau Ballet,
Anakelly,
Marshall Jefferson,
Connie Case,
Ituana,
Unwound,
Dual Sessions,
Letta Mbulu,
Don Cherry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Byron Stingily,
CMW,
Lou Christie,
Stiv Bators,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Grauzone,
Public Enemy,
Radiopuhelimet,
June Days,
Marcia Griffiths,
The New Christs,
Malaria!,
Idris Muhammad,
Reagan Youth,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ossler,
Faraquet,
Bronski Beat,
The Seeds,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ten City,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.