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 Tajikistan and from Columbus.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tokyo.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gang of Four to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and an organ 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 clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Gabor Szabo,
Masters at Work,
Simply Red,
Yusef Lateef,
Jacob Miller,
Crime,
Nas,
Eve St. Jones,
Mr. Review,
Kerri Chandler,
The Searchers,
The Sound,
The Dirtbombs,
Eddi Front,
The Vogues,
Carl Craig,
Supertramp,
Barry Ungar,
The Doors,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Moebius,
Boz Scaggs,
Johnny Clarke,
a-ha,
Oblivians,
Stockholm Monsters,
Alton Ellis,
June Days,
Wire,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Remains,
Desert Stars,
Negative Approach,
These Immortal Souls,
Magazine,
John Foxx,
the Slits,
Sarah Menescal,
Sandy B,
The Electric Prunes,
Rakim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Suicide,
Crooked Eye,
Sound Behaviour,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
DNA,
H. Thieme,
The Pop Group,
Blancmange,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Young Rascals,
Animal Collective,
The Selecter,
Sugar Minott,
Lou Reed,
Zapp,
Television Personalities,
Unrelated Segments,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.