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 Niger and from Johannesburg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 organ 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 James White and The Blacks to the grime 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
the Germs,
Jacques Brel,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eric Dolphy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Zero Boys,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Funkadelic,
Television Personalities,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Man Eating Sloth,
World's Most,
The Smiths,
Maleditus Sound,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
D'Angelo,
Arab on Radar,
Reuben Wilson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Urselle,
the Sonics,
Pylon,
Jacob Miller,
Minor Threat,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Supertramp,
Royal Trux,
Rufus Thomas,
Echospace,
Brothers Johnson,
Cymande,
Country Teasers,
Avey Tare,
Godley & Creme,
Smog,
The Monks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Toni Rubio,
Duran Duran,
Yaz,
Henry Cow,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lower 48,
Susan Cadogan,
Thee Headcoats,
Scion,
8 Eyed Spy,
Howard Jones,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Litter,
The Star Department,
Negative Approach,
Black Flag,
Tears for Fears,
The Trojans,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fire Engines,
Faust,
Lou Reed,
Joyce Sims,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.