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 Chad and from Tokyo.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Ituana to the techno 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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Grauzone,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lungfish,
Flipper,
Soul II Soul,
The Durutti Column,
Panda Bear,
Bauhaus,
Buzzcocks,
Sonic Youth,
Mr. Review,
Minnie Riperton,
Robert Hood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Average White Band,
F. McDonald,
Marshall Jefferson,
Peter and Kerry,
Agent Orange,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
DJ Sneak,
Warren Ellis,
Depeche Mode,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Section 25,
Wire,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Fuzztones,
The Tremeloes,
the Slits,
Fela Kuti,
Toni Rubio,
A Certain Ratio,
Black Bananas,
Dual Sessions,
R.M.O.,
Faraquet,
Brothers Johnson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Japan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Red Krayola,
John Coltrane,
Crash Course in Science,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Laurel Aitken,
Bronski Beat,
Joy Division,
The Names,
The Pretty Things,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Pop Group,
Public Image Ltd.,
Excepter,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.