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 Germany and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Paris.
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 808 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 DNA to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul II Soul record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Sex Pistols,
Arab on Radar,
Joe Finger,
New Age Steppers,
Ultra Naté,
D'Angelo,
Arcadia,
LL Cool J,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roxette,
Mary Jane Girls,
Minnie Riperton,
Rufus Thomas,
Interpol,
Soft Machine,
The Zeros,
Au Pairs,
Jeff Lynne,
Piero Umiliani,
the Slits,
Bronski Beat,
The Mummies,
Barbara Tucker,
The Searchers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dual Sessions,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Don Cherry,
Anakelly,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Derrick May,
T. Rex,
Crime,
Masters at Work,
the Normal,
The Five Americans,
Underground Resistance,
Deakin,
Tres Demented,
The Busters,
Fad Gadget,
Big Daddy Kane,
Yusef Lateef,
Surgeon,
Intrusion,
Lyres,
Black Moon,
Duran Duran,
Flipper,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Camouflage,
Lakeside,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Remains,
Nick Fraelich,
The Dirtbombs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.