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 Switzerland and from Milan.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wolf Eyes to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
The Moleskins,
The Cowsills,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Absolute Body Control,
Grauzone,
Whodini,
Gang of Four,
X-102,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Mummies,
The Slackers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tears for Fears,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Anakelly,
Crispy Ambulance,
Make Up,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Foxx,
Bizarre Inc.,
kango's stein massive,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Davy DMX,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cal Tjader,
The Motions,
This Heat,
Jeff Mills,
Max Romeo,
Yellowson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobby Sherman,
Tim Buckley,
Cameo,
Unwound,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Curtis Mayfield,
David Bowie,
X-Ray Spex,
Faraquet,
Archie Shepp,
The Buckinghams,
Mandrill,
Aswad,
Lebanon Hanover,
Loose Ends,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Divine Comedy,
the Soft Cell,
The Gories,
The Happenings,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jeff Lynne,
Q and Not U,
Fugazi,
CMW,
Schoolly D,
the Sonics,
Nils Olav,
Charles Mingus,
Lyres,
The Offenders,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.