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 Cambodia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ituana to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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 Wake,
Peter and Kerry,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Dirtbombs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Absolute Body Control,
The Music Machine,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Pretty Things,
The Black Dice,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Slits,
Procol Harum,
Smog,
Soft Cell,
Talk Talk,
The Knickerbockers,
Rites of Spring,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Warren Ellis,
Moss Icon,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lebanon Hanover,
Reagan Youth,
Erasure,
The Fugs,
Bob Dylan,
Eden Ahbez,
The Stooges,
Porter Ricks,
Unwound,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Brick,
Goldenarms,
Soulsonic Force,
Siglo XX,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sällskapet,
The J.B.'s,
Don Cherry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Deakin,
Minnie Riperton,
Scientists,
Severed Heads,
Flipper,
Gerry Rafferty,
Altered Images,
Derrick May,
Niagra,
Piero Umiliani,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Zero Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Unrelated Segments,
Lungfish,
Symarip,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Amazonics,
Cameo,
Interpol,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.