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 Italy and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the electroclash 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New York Dolls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Jeff Mills,
Schoolly D,
Lightning Bolt,
Dennis Brown,
Glambeats Corp.,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roxette,
The Monks,
Barry Ungar,
Visage,
Tim Buckley,
Laurel Aitken,
John Holt,
Cluster,
Swans,
Chris & Cosey,
The Busters,
Pagans,
Lou Reed,
Tres Demented,
AZ,
Donny Hathaway,
The Raincoats,
Wolf Eyes,
Camouflage,
Aural Exciters,
Livin' Joy,
Ronan,
Hoover,
The Leaves,
Hot Snakes,
Panda Bear,
Spandau Ballet,
Ossler,
Yusef Lateef,
Surgeon,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Normal,
The Skatalites,
The Martian,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skarface,
Ralphi Rosario,
UT,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eyeless In Gaza,
X-Ray Spex,
Television Personalities,
Kas Product,
T. Rex,
Cymande,
Subhumans,
Sixth Finger,
Skriet,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bobby Womack,
David McCallum,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rosa Yemen,
Cheater Slicks,
Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions, Boogie Down Productions.
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.