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 Luxembourg and from Woodstock.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the oboe 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 Groovy Waters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Skriet,
The Grass Roots,
John Coltrane,
kango's stein massive,
Slick Rick,
Cluster,
Technova,
Masters at Work,
Country Teasers,
Eve St. Jones,
China Crisis,
Fugazi,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Cale,
Sarah Menescal,
Tommy Roe,
Jeru the Damaja,
Talk Talk,
Isaac Hayes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ronan,
The Barracudas,
Soul II Soul,
The Cramps,
Terrestrial Tones,
Man Eating Sloth,
Maurizio,
Sight & Sound,
Neil Young,
Parry Music,
Quadrant,
Marmalade,
The Mummies,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scott Walker,
Boredoms,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Judy Mowatt,
Cymande,
Electric Prunes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Alison Limerick,
The Knickerbockers,
The Black Dice,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Robert Wyatt,
the Soft Cell,
Radio Birdman,
Lindisfarne,
Trumans Water,
Robert Hood,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Zapp,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Pus,
Graham Central Station,
Intrusion,
June of 44,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.