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 Guinea and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 The Cramps to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry's Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Detroit Cobras,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cowsills,
Popol Vuh,
The Sonics,
EPMD,
MC5,
The Fortunes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Shoche,
L. Decosne,
The Five Americans,
Morten Harket,
Boz Scaggs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Fania All-Stars,
Derrick May,
Gang Starr,
The Durutti Column,
Public Enemy,
Tom Boy,
Panda Bear,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Vladislav Delay,
Alton Ellis,
Blancmange,
Jeff Lynne,
Rapeman,
David McCallum,
the Slits,
Harpers Bizarre,
Public Image Ltd.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tommy Roe,
Cybotron,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Lyres,
Jerry's Kids,
The Techniques,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Smiths,
T.S.O.L.,
Lou Reed,
Stiv Bators,
T. Rex,
Mission of Burma,
Cluster,
Sugar Minott,
Harry Pussy,
ABC,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Supertramp,
Cal Tjader,
the Swans,
The Leaves,
Carl Craig,
Monolake,
The Divine Comedy,
Symarip,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.