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 Ghana and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 sitar 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 Delon & Dalcan to the dance 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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
Isaac Hayes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Neon Judgement,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wally Richardson,
Brass Construction,
Royal Trux,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Technova,
Desert Stars,
Eli Mardock,
Susan Cadogan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bad Manners,
Unrelated Segments,
The Selecter,
Skarface,
Henry Cow,
The Trojans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kaleidoscope,
Panda Bear,
The Birthday Party,
Public Image Ltd.,
Glenn Branca,
The Five Americans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Curtis Mayfield,
FM Einheit,
The Remains,
Nico,
The Mojo Men,
Popol Vuh,
Nick Fraelich,
Grey Daturas,
Rakim,
The Skatalites,
Youth Brigade,
Blossom Toes,
Nils Olav,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fuzztones,
MC5,
The Invisible,
Joensuu 1685,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Erasure,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Television,
The Blackbyrds,
The Blues Magoos,
The Stooges,
Dead Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.