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 Afghanistan and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Raincoats to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All UT tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roger Hodgson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Kurtis Blow,
The Slits,
The Motions,
Thee Headcoats,
Mo-Dettes,
The Monks,
DJ Style,
The J.B.'s,
Half Japanese,
Ponytail,
Don Cherry,
The Moody Blues,
Duran Duran,
Agitation Free,
Outsiders,
Robert Görl,
Sarah Menescal,
Bluetip,
Rites of Spring,
Can,
Pet Shop Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Skaos,
Althea and Donna,
The Alarm Clocks,
Procol Harum,
Parry Music,
Peter and Kerry,
T.S.O.L.,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Swell Maps,
Lindisfarne,
Desert Stars,
Warsaw,
The Doobie Brothers,
New Age Steppers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Barbara Tucker,
Derrick May,
Gabor Szabo,
Minor Threat,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Aswad,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Count Five,
Henry Cow,
Clear Light,
Arab on Radar,
the Sonics,
Main Source,
The Index,
Dead Boys,
One Last Wish,
David Bowie,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jacques Brel,
Mark Hollis,
Carl Craig,
Todd Terry,
Curtis Mayfield,
Delta 5,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.