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 Mexico and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Graham Central Station to the funk 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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Gang Starr,
10cc,
The Leaves,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gerry Rafferty,
D'Angelo,
Index,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Robert Wyatt,
Inner City,
Anakelly,
Sonic Youth,
Gil Scott Heron,
Essential Logic,
The Gun Club,
Donny Hathaway,
Eli Mardock,
Theoretical Girls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Desert Stars,
Sound Behaviour,
Freddie Wadling,
Moby Grape,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Barbara Tucker,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Deakin,
The Human League,
Mars,
Young Marble Giants,
MDC,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Amon Düül,
Pussy Galore,
Faraquet,
Nas,
Ornette Coleman,
Lungfish,
Girls At Our Best!,
Babytalk,
The Beau Brummels,
Warren Ellis,
Kurtis Blow,
The Blues Magoos,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mad Mike,
The Kinks,
Letta Mbulu,
8 Eyed Spy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fugazi,
Spandau Ballet,
Parry Music,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
PIL,
Cybotron,
Pierre Henry,
Howard Jones,
ABBA,
Severed Heads,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.