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 Madagascar and from Stockholm.
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 Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 harpsichord 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 Trojans to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quantec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Dave Clark Five,
T.S.O.L.,
The Wake,
X-102,
Funkadelic,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quadrant,
Young Marble Giants,
La Düsseldorf,
Bill Near,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bluetip,
Yellowson,
The Techniques,
Harry Pussy,
Sparks,
Derrick May,
Bush Tetras,
Janne Schatter,
Deadbeat,
Bill Wells,
Bootsy Collins,
the Soft Cell,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Duran Duran,
Mission of Burma,
Dorothy Ashby,
Judy Mowatt,
Technova,
The Modern Lovers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Aaron Thompson,
The Dirtbombs,
Country Teasers,
Pole,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Robert Hood,
Black Pus,
Index,
Jeff Mills,
Fat Boys,
London Community Gospel Choir,
David Bowie,
The Music Machine,
Suicide,
Eden Ahbez,
Pere Ubu,
The Trojans,
Royal Trux,
Babytalk,
Quando Quango,
Little Man,
Sandy B,
The Busters,
Mandrill,
Subhumans,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.