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 Pakistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 snare 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 Man Parrish 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eden Ahbez record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
The Walker Brothers,
Bang On A Can,
Michelle Simonal,
Zero Boys,
Pylon,
Robert Wyatt,
Ultimate Spinach,
Interpol,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Beau Brummels,
The Dirtbombs,
Tubeway Army,
Frankie Knuckles,
LL Cool J,
Skriet,
Terrestrial Tones,
Leonard Cohen,
Barbara Tucker,
Sonic Youth,
Toni Rubio,
the Slits,
X-Ray Spex,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ultravox,
Lindisfarne,
U.S. Maple,
Slick Rick,
Bootsy Collins,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
R.M.O.,
Colin Newman,
Lyres,
The Gladiators,
Spoonie Gee,
Soulsonic Force,
Spandau Ballet,
Yazoo,
The Cramps,
Groovy Waters,
Harry Pussy,
Joe Finger,
Kerrie Biddell,
Brick,
Wasted Youth,
Cluster,
The Offenders,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Selecter,
The Moleskins,
B.T. Express,
David McCallum,
The Index,
Oneida,
New York Dolls,
Neil Young,
Moby Grape,
Ornette Coleman,
John Lydon,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.