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 Tunisia and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Boz Scaggs to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Suicide,
Henry Cow,
Don Cherry,
Whodini,
Anthony Braxton,
The Stooges,
Althea and Donna,
Make Up,
Robert Hood,
Outsiders,
The Birthday Party,
Hashim,
Television,
The Names,
The Dirtbombs,
Niagra,
Mission of Burma,
The Gladiators,
David Axelrod,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jacob Miller,
World's Most,
The Motions,
Deepchord,
Robert Görl,
the Soft Cell,
Cecil Taylor,
Idris Muhammad,
Yazoo,
Marc Almond,
Panda Bear,
Excepter,
Arcadia,
Nick Fraelich,
James White and The Blacks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eli Mardock,
Sparks,
MC5,
Sun Ra,
Organ,
Amazonics,
Harmonia,
Bob Dylan,
Soul II Soul,
Oblivians,
Quantec,
Ronnie Foster,
The Pretty Things,
The Fire Engines,
Godley & Creme,
Bobby Sherman,
The Cramps,
X-Ray Spex,
Khruangbin,
Crispy Ambulance,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dave Gahan,
Donny Hathaway,
Laurel Aitken,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.