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 Lithuania 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 T.S.O.L. to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Nas,
Ken Boothe,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jacob Miller,
L. Decosne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Josef K,
The Smoke,
Glenn Branca,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
H. Thieme,
Sexual Harrassment,
Zapp,
Quando Quango,
Pagans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hoover,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Busters,
Monks,
Barbara Tucker,
Connie Case,
Mo-Dettes,
the Human League,
Lyres,
Tomorrow,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Angry Samoans,
Trumans Water,
Eric Dolphy,
Bobby Sherman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sonics,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fatback Band,
Schoolly D,
LL Cool J,
the Bar-Kays,
Joy Division,
Suicide,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pole,
Max Romeo,
Urselle,
The Knickerbockers,
X-102,
Michelle Simonal,
Dark Day,
Dual Sessions,
Fat Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pylon,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.