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 Iraq and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Television Personalities to the punk 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Siglo XX,
The Slits,
X-101,
Parry Music,
Roger Hodgson,
Maurizio,
Scion,
The Slackers,
Graham Central Station,
The Selecter,
Sound Behaviour,
Derrick Morgan,
Suicide,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Byrd,
Buzzcocks,
The Buckinghams,
Desert Stars,
New Order,
Nirvana,
The Move,
Brick,
Don Cherry,
Depeche Mode,
Eric Dolphy,
Inner City,
Bobby Sherman,
The Happenings,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Associates,
Jacques Brel,
Fluxion,
Alice Coltrane,
Eric Copeland,
Dual Sessions,
the Human League,
Angry Samoans,
Hoover,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rufus Thomas,
The Motions,
Trumans Water,
Masters at Work,
The Gladiators,
The Mummies,
The Gories,
The Golliwogs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wire,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fela Kuti,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marcia Griffiths,
Second Layer,
The Litter,
Crime,
The Victims,
Andrew Hill,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.