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 Andorra and from New York.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare 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 Public Image Ltd. to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Howard Jones,
Byron Stingily,
Grauzone,
Freddie Wadling,
ABC,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Offenders,
Shuggie Otis,
Clear Light,
The Associates,
The Victims,
Skriet,
Archie Shepp,
X-Ray Spex,
The Monks,
Sex Pistols,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boredoms,
Banda Bassotti,
the Germs,
Ice-T,
Gang of Four,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bauhaus,
Cymande,
Outsiders,
Tomorrow,
a-ha,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Gladiators,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
This Heat,
Anakelly,
Sister Nancy,
DJ Sneak,
Blossom Toes,
Goldenarms,
Althea and Donna,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Hasil Adkins,
Ronnie Foster,
The Pretty Things,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Moss Icon,
Desert Stars,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
DJ Style,
Chris Corsano,
Bad Manners,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Scrapy,
Michelle Simonal,
Metal Thangz,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Sonics,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.