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 Sierra Leone and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Jakarta.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Marcia Griffiths to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Fania All-Stars,
The Wake,
The Alarm Clocks,
Harry Pussy,
Angry Samoans,
The Associates,
The Move,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Skriet,
L. Decosne,
Marcia Griffiths,
Grey Daturas,
John Cale,
Make Up,
The Slackers,
Robert Görl,
Marvin Gaye,
Frankie Knuckles,
Chrome,
X-101,
New York Dolls,
The Saints,
Colin Newman,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lalann,
Joensuu 1685,
The Electric Prunes,
The Misunderstood,
Freddie Wadling,
The Mummies,
Joe Finger,
Yazoo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
World's Most,
Vainqueur,
Khruangbin,
Marmalade,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fad Gadget,
Tomorrow,
The Searchers,
Zero Boys,
Ossler,
Roy Ayers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Barrington Levy,
Talk Talk,
June of 44,
DJ Style,
Terry Callier,
Todd Terry,
Lakeside,
Sexual Harrassment,
Babytalk,
Duran Duran,
The Offenders,
a-ha,
the Soft Cell,
Eli Mardock,
Camouflage,
The Shadows of Knight,
Funky Four + One,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.