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 Korea North and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lyon.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Dirtbombs to the disco 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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
a-ha,
The Busters,
The Misunderstood,
Mandrill,
the Normal,
Kaleidoscope,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Real Kids,
The Names,
The Gap Band,
Colin Newman,
Suburban Knight,
Hot Snakes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wally Richardson,
Crooked Eye,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gong,
Kurtis Blow,
Japan,
Kerri Chandler,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tim Buckley,
A Certain Ratio,
Infiniti,
Boredoms,
John Cale,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rod Modell,
Youth Brigade,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Stetsasonic,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Skriet,
Josef K,
Morten Harket,
Ronan,
Khruangbin,
The Five Americans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Iggy Pop,
Susan Cadogan,
Godley & Creme,
Howard Jones,
The Raincoats,
Glenn Branca,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sandy B,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mantronix,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Monks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Erykah Badu,
Ossler,
The Cramps,
New Order,
Cymande,
Aural Exciters,
Sällskapet,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.