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 Russia and from Bologna.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Radio Birdman to the grunge 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Intrusion,
Fear,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gang Starr,
The Pretty Things,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Robert Görl,
Monolake,
Niagra,
The Residents,
Roy Ayers,
Minny Pops,
Grey Daturas,
Spandau Ballet,
The Mojo Men,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Young Rascals,
Wally Richardson,
Talk Talk,
Alphaville,
Outsiders,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Interpol,
Y Pants,
Judy Mowatt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bush Tetras,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Star Department,
Theoretical Girls,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bad Manners,
Accadde A,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mars,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cymande,
David Bowie,
Goldenarms,
Kas Product,
Max Romeo,
Marvin Gaye,
Organ,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Dirtbombs,
Cameo,
Camberwell Now,
Robert Wyatt,
The Real Kids,
Gang of Four,
Bobby Sherman,
Silicon Teens,
Hoover,
Black Moon,
Basic Channel,
Todd Terry,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.