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 Bhutan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Young Rascals to the funk 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
The Leaves,
Dave Gahan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Suicide,
Sparks,
K-Klass,
The Doors,
La Düsseldorf,
Sarah Menescal,
The Pretty Things,
Reuben Wilson,
Oblivians,
Todd Rundgren,
OOIOO,
Depeche Mode,
Don Cherry,
Althea and Donna,
Y Pants,
Fugazi,
Faraquet,
Barrington Levy,
The Cowsills,
Kerri Chandler,
Ituana,
Altered Images,
Sex Pistols,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Evens,
The Five Americans,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobby Sherman,
The Alarm Clocks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joyce Sims,
Black Flag,
Sällskapet,
The Dead C,
Lee Hazlewood,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Brothers Johnson,
The Techniques,
Idris Muhammad,
Derrick Morgan,
Connie Case,
Marmalade,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lungfish,
DNA,
Roxy Music,
The Velvet Underground,
Chris & Cosey,
Accadde A,
Kool Moe Dee,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Deakin,
Skarface,
David Bowie,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Monks,
Cybotron,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.