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 Turkmenistan and from New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Marcia Griffiths to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Infiniti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Los Fastidios,
Aloha Tigers,
Au Pairs,
Sandy B,
DJ Sneak,
The Angels of Light,
Wolf Eyes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Guru Guru,
Groovy Waters,
Black Bananas,
The Slits,
Prince Buster,
LL Cool J,
Ossler,
Mr. Review,
The Offenders,
Lyres,
Duran Duran,
Eric Dolphy,
Swans,
Matthew Halsall,
Babytalk,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
48th St. Collective,
Popol Vuh,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Fania All-Stars,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Warren Ellis,
Roger Hodgson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nation of Ulysses,
Amazonics,
The Gladiators,
Matthew Bourne,
Max Romeo,
Jawbox,
Joe Finger,
Skaos,
Robert Hood,
Ludus,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Stooges,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Amon Düül II,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Sheep,
Ronan,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Fall,
The Gap Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pantaleimon,
Gong,
Television,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Banda Bassotti,
Nas,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.