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 Solomon Islands and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Michael McDonald 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 Franke to the rap 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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Shoche,
Slick Rick,
Tropical Tobacco,
The New Christs,
Davy DMX,
Robert Görl,
Severed Heads,
Barrington Levy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Derrick Morgan,
Sex Pistols,
Marshall Jefferson,
Groovy Waters,
Bush Tetras,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marvin Gaye,
Excepter,
The Divine Comedy,
The Tremeloes,
Gabor Szabo,
Leonard Cohen,
DJ Style,
Deadbeat,
La Düsseldorf,
Radiopuhelimet,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Stooges,
Funkadelic,
Eddi Front,
Mark Hollis,
Echospace,
Babytalk,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Kayak,
Deepchord,
The Doors,
Barry Ungar,
Iggy Pop,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Happenings,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jeff Lynne,
Brick,
Tubeway Army,
Brand Nubian,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Young Rascals,
Japan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Moby Grape,
Boredoms,
Gregory Isaacs,
Make Up,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Joy Division,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.