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 Saudi Arabia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Beijing.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Nik Kershaw,
Y Pants,
Surgeon,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Slave,
Soulsonic Force,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Gap Band,
Severed Heads,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Essential Logic,
Harry Pussy,
June of 44,
Letta Mbulu,
Anthony Braxton,
Section 25,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Max Romeo,
Visage,
Kaleidoscope,
Barrington Levy,
Spandau Ballet,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ohio Players,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Thee Headcoats,
The Black Dice,
Echospace,
The Red Krayola,
John Lydon,
The Techniques,
Newcleus,
Robert Hood,
Bluetip,
Blossom Toes,
Jandek,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Johnny Clarke,
The Kinks,
Deakin,
Morten Harket,
Organ,
JFA,
Pierre Henry,
John Coltrane,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sight & Sound,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Moebius,
The Pretty Things,
Animal Collective,
Cal Tjader,
Wire,
Radiohead,
Byron Stingily,
The Golliwogs,
Goldenarms,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
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.