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 Portugal and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sandy B to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Jeff Lynne,
Talk Talk,
Pussy Galore,
Von Mondo,
The Moleskins,
Colin Newman,
The Modern Lovers,
Khruangbin,
Davy DMX,
Procol Harum,
the Germs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Peter & Gordon,
the Fania All-Stars,
Excepter,
Camberwell Now,
Bizarre Inc.,
Shoche,
The Cowsills,
Masters at Work,
Black Moon,
Spoonie Gee,
The Wake,
Heaven 17,
Cluster,
David Axelrod,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Camouflage,
Nation of Ulysses,
Erykah Badu,
Angry Samoans,
JFA,
The Neon Judgement,
Soul Sonic Force,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Arab on Radar,
The Black Dice,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Funky Four + One,
The Real Kids,
The American Breed,
Boogie Down Productions,
Toni Rubio,
Pulsallama,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rites of Spring,
The Names,
The Human League,
Moby Grape,
Mantronix,
Youth Brigade,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Loose Ends,
Banda Bassotti,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pole,
Siglo XX,
Infiniti,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.