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 Swaziland and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 organ 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 Pulsallama to the funk 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 The Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Last Poets,
Unwound,
Soulsonic Force,
Spandau Ballet,
Cheater Slicks,
Steve Hackett,
T.S.O.L.,
Howard Jones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eddi Front,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lightning Bolt,
F. McDonald,
Aswad,
kango's stein massive,
Dark Day,
The Selecter,
The Cure,
Vainqueur,
Rapeman,
The Dave Clark Five,
Hot Snakes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Camouflage,
Model 500,
David Bowie,
The Evens,
Interpol,
Siglo XX,
The Raincoats,
Banda Bassotti,
Lower 48,
The Remains,
The Residents,
the Swans,
Mark Hollis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Buzzcocks,
Hoover,
Section 25,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ossler,
X-102,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nik Kershaw,
Yazoo,
Marmalade,
Dennis Brown,
Eve St. Jones,
Joensuu 1685,
The Move,
The Victims,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Charles Mingus,
Nils Olav,
John Foxx,
Altered Images,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.