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 Niger and from Lagos.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the electroclash 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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Harmonia,
Kaleidoscope,
Quando Quango,
The Music Machine,
X-Ray Spex,
Mantronix,
Television,
Fad Gadget,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marc Almond,
Lou Reed,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Sheep,
Eve St. Jones,
Amon Düül,
Simply Red,
The Blackbyrds,
Don Cherry,
In Retrospect,
Charles Mingus,
Infiniti,
The Electric Prunes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dead Boys,
The Black Dice,
Aloha Tigers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pere Ubu,
Spoonie Gee,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Eric B and Rakim,
Neil Young,
Make Up,
The Evens,
Scientists,
Max Romeo,
Joyce Sims,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bad Manners,
Fatback Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Martian,
K-Klass,
Nik Kershaw,
Moss Icon,
Quadrant,
Barbara Tucker,
Kurtis Blow,
Minor Threat,
Marvin Gaye,
Kool Moe Dee,
Carl Craig,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Negative Approach,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gichy Dan,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.