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 Cape Verde and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fortunes to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Pussy Galore,
Absolute Body Control,
The Sonics,
Panda Bear,
Johnny Osbourne,
Saccharine Trust,
Rod Modell,
The Index,
Pagans,
Liliput,
Fluxion,
Isaac Hayes,
Gang Starr,
Cameo,
Hashim,
Scientists,
The Doors,
Davy DMX,
Roxette,
Glenn Branca,
Skarface,
Darondo,
Gerry Rafferty,
Girls At Our Best!,
Camouflage,
Skriet,
The Residents,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Howard Jones,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Theoretical Girls,
Tubeway Army,
Bill Near,
Severed Heads,
Joyce Sims,
The Litter,
Underground Resistance,
Joey Negro,
Index,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Vladislav Delay,
Aaron Thompson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Terry Callier,
Dave Gahan,
Urselle,
The Evens,
Masters at Work,
Jawbox,
Niagra,
Unrelated Segments,
The Cure,
Monks,
Mad Mike,
Eric Copeland,
Arthur Verocai,
Interpol,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jeff Lynne,
Ultravox,
Yaz,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.