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 Burkina and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 808 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 kango's stein massive to the electroclash 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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Crime,
Yellowson,
Minny Pops,
Aural Exciters,
Minnie Riperton,
New Order,
Tubeway Army,
AZ,
The Invisible,
The Index,
The Neon Judgement,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Malaria!,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Barracudas,
Pulsallama,
A Certain Ratio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Slackers,
The Associates,
Mark Hollis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fad Gadget,
Lindisfarne,
The Toasters,
The Divine Comedy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Audionom,
Angry Samoans,
Technova,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
L. Decosne,
Flash Fearless,
The Gladiators,
The Names,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gang Gang Dance,
Easy Going,
Gang Green,
Ultimate Spinach,
Basic Channel,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ludus,
Circle Jerks,
John Holt,
Wasted Youth,
Desert Stars,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
David McCallum,
X-102,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Monks,
Brick,
The Blackbyrds,
Terry Callier,
The Offenders,
Metal Thangz,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.