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 Guinea-Bissau and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the grunge 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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
The Pop Group,
The Pretty Things,
The Sound,
Lyres,
Ludus,
Aswad,
Brand Nubian,
Television,
T. Rex,
The Durutti Column,
These Immortal Souls,
Junior Murvin,
Bob Dylan,
Khruangbin,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Shuggie Otis,
Iggy Pop,
LL Cool J,
Ultimate Spinach,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Shadows of Knight,
Interpol,
Man Parrish,
Cheater Slicks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rod Modell,
Marmalade,
Sällskapet,
Nas,
ABBA,
Los Fastidios,
Ash Ra Tempel,
This Heat,
The Neon Judgement,
Amon Düül,
Echospace,
Thompson Twins,
Monolake,
EPMD,
New York Dolls,
Eve St. Jones,
Crooked Eye,
John Coltrane,
Fugazi,
The Tremeloes,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Buckinghams,
Colin Newman,
Freddie Wadling,
The Cowsills,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ultra Naté,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Remains,
Boredoms,
The Wake,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Hoover,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Circle Jerks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.