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 New Zealand and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Dice to the rap 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Lower 48 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Archie Shepp,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sister Nancy,
Sugar Minott,
One Last Wish,
Peter & Gordon,
Guru Guru,
Funkadelic,
Rapeman,
Ultravox,
Tom Boy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mr. Review,
The Monochrome Set,
The Grass Roots,
Brothers Johnson,
Symarip,
Silicon Teens,
Chrome,
Wings,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Harry Pussy,
June of 44,
Man Parrish,
Schoolly D,
Royal Trux,
The Techniques,
Bobby Womack,
Popol Vuh,
Isaac Hayes,
The Mummies,
The Beau Brummels,
Joe Finger,
Bad Manners,
Scrapy,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Selecter,
Boredoms,
The Birthday Party,
Bronski Beat,
Jeff Lynne,
Quando Quango,
Barbara Tucker,
Con Funk Shun,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lou Christie,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Martian,
Inner City,
The Fire Engines,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nik Kershaw,
Joy Division,
June Days,
Robert Wyatt,
Rosa Yemen,
The Standells,
Anakelly,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.