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 San Marino and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar 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 The United States of America to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index 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 a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Cluster,
Saccharine Trust,
The American Breed,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Altered Images,
Scan 7,
K-Klass,
Scott Walker,
The Fortunes,
Slave,
The Residents,
Funkadelic,
The Gun Club,
Gabor Szabo,
John Cale,
The Techniques,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cheater Slicks,
Joensuu 1685,
Judy Mowatt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Music Machine,
Idris Muhammad,
The Selecter,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Icehouse,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Alice Coltrane,
Blossom Toes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pylon,
Rufus Thomas,
Model 500,
Deadbeat,
Schoolly D,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Blake Baxter,
Minutemen,
Anthony Braxton,
Rites of Spring,
New Order,
Niagra,
Funky Four + One,
Donald Byrd,
Cymande,
Bill Wells,
Oneida,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lindisfarne,
The Smoke,
Roxy Music,
Monks,
Black Sheep,
Jeff Lynne,
Pere Ubu,
Dawn Penn,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.