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 Tajikistan 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bad Manners to the punk 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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro 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 guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Monks,
Slick Rick,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Doors,
The Knickerbockers,
The Birthday Party,
Chris & Cosey,
Easy Going,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
DNA,
ABBA,
The Remains,
Gang Green,
The American Breed,
Neu!,
Jerry's Kids,
The Slits,
Technova,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Popol Vuh,
Todd Rundgren,
Arab on Radar,
Eric Copeland,
Warren Ellis,
Howard Jones,
Cheater Slicks,
David McCallum,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Underground Resistance,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Y Pants,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Matthew Halsall,
Amon Düül,
MDC,
Ronnie Foster,
Malaria!,
Tres Demented,
Franke,
Eddi Front,
Das Ding,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
MC5,
Barrington Levy,
Wings,
The Zeros,
Basic Channel,
The Happenings,
Sun City Girls,
Stetsasonic,
Adolescents,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bauhaus,
John Holt,
Camberwell Now,
the Sonics,
Drive Like Jehu,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.