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 Ireland and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 Qualms to the grunge 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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
Liliput,
Johnny Clarke,
ABBA,
Gabor Szabo,
Sällskapet,
Panda Bear,
The New Christs,
Matthew Halsall,
Unrelated Segments,
Sex Pistols,
Mark Hollis,
The Slackers,
Skarface,
David McCallum,
Faraquet,
The Offenders,
Joey Negro,
Eddi Front,
Letta Mbulu,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Monks,
the Soft Cell,
Hoover,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pet Shop Boys,
DJ Style,
Nation of Ulysses,
Underground Resistance,
Television Personalities,
The Knickerbockers,
Dawn Penn,
Deadbeat,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Country Teasers,
KRS-One,
Joensuu 1685,
Masters at Work,
Marcia Griffiths,
Suicide,
U.S. Maple,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Piero Umiliani,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Frankie Knuckles,
Unwound,
Lungfish,
Man Parrish,
Make Up,
Black Moon,
Jandek,
Scan 7,
Isaac Hayes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jeff Mills,
Anthony Braxton,
K-Klass,
Bizarre Inc.,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.