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 Czech Republic and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Lee Hazlewood to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Move. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Isaac Hayes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Arab on Radar,
Blake Baxter,
Derrick Morgan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Malaria!,
Mo-Dettes,
Mad Mike,
Mr. Review,
Soul Sonic Force,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gabor Szabo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Carl Craig,
Man Parrish,
Pole,
Boogie Down Productions,
Technova,
Boredoms,
DNA,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Drexciya,
The Misunderstood,
Franke,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fire Engines,
Livin' Joy,
Lou Reed,
Jimmy McGriff,
Matthew Halsall,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Flipper,
The Associates,
The Dead C,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bob Dylan,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ossler,
Robert Hood,
Sandy B,
Scan 7,
The Velvet Underground,
Stockholm Monsters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
AZ,
Theoretical Girls,
The Mummies,
Cecil Taylor,
The Music Machine,
Al Stewart,
Sugar Minott,
Spandau Ballet,
The Trojans,
Siglo XX,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Make Up,
Connie Case,
Au Pairs,
Robert Görl,
Black Moon,
Bobby Sherman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.