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 Monaco and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Average White Band to the techno 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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco 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 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick Morgan,
X-102,
Silicon Teens,
Technova,
Swell Maps,
Roy Ayers,
Brothers Johnson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bad Manners,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Sound,
Camouflage,
Public Enemy,
The Human League,
David McCallum,
Lyres,
E-Dancer,
Interpol,
Carl Craig,
Peter & Gordon,
The Residents,
Organ,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Black Dice,
Schoolly D,
Clear Light,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Motorama,
DNA,
Cybotron,
Ohio Players,
Joyce Sims,
FM Einheit,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Easy Going,
Radiopuhelimet,
Heaven 17,
Echospace,
Anakelly,
Boz Scaggs,
Wasted Youth,
Livin' Joy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Colin Newman,
DJ Sneak,
Zero Boys,
Pagans,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Alarm Clocks,
Barbara Tucker,
Tom Boy,
Matthew Bourne,
X-Ray Spex,
Blossom Toes,
The Vogues,
T.S.O.L.,
Liliput,
The J.B.'s,
Jandek,
Porter Ricks,
The Real Kids,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
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.