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 Bangladesh and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lou Reed to the electroclash 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Lou Christie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ronan,
Mantronix,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gerry Rafferty,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Shoche,
The Golliwogs,
T.S.O.L.,
Kurtis Blow,
The Move,
Mr. Review,
Livin' Joy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Moody Blues,
Echospace,
Marshall Jefferson,
Monks,
Ossler,
DJ Style,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bluetip,
Althea and Donna,
Fat Boys,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Byrd,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gong,
Big Daddy Kane,
Organ,
Sun Ra,
Blossom Toes,
Alison Limerick,
Quando Quango,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Names,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Severed Heads,
Marvin Gaye,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ohio Players,
Hashim,
Minor Threat,
Vladislav Delay,
Max Romeo,
Fluxion,
Main Source,
Pulsallama,
the Slits,
Tres Demented,
Sugar Minott,
Nils Olav,
The Raincoats,
Erasure,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Minutemen,
The Slits,
Suicide,
Circle Jerks,
Blake Baxter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.