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 Bahrain and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Houston.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Stiv Bators to the jazz 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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lakeside,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Spandau Ballet,
Harmonia,
Scott Walker,
Thee Headcoats,
Average White Band,
Davy DMX,
Peter and Kerry,
The Red Krayola,
Robert Görl,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Junior Murvin,
Wings,
The Dead C,
Blossom Toes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Technova,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Buzzcocks,
The Smoke,
Shoche,
Cheater Slicks,
Glenn Branca,
Susan Cadogan,
Bad Manners,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Zeros,
Bizarre Inc.,
Skarface,
Alice Coltrane,
Icehouse,
Mission of Burma,
The Slits,
The Busters,
The Trojans,
Shuggie Otis,
EPMD,
The Monks,
Idris Muhammad,
The Selecter,
Althea and Donna,
Toni Rubio,
Eve St. Jones,
Suburban Knight,
Graham Central Station,
Magazine,
Schoolly D,
Avey Tare,
Sam Rivers,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Radiopuhelimet,
Marcia Griffiths,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Henry Cow,
The Fire Engines,
Joe Smooth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Circle Jerks,
Sparks,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.