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 Belize and from Shanghai.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Nas 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Gerry Rafferty,
Aloha Tigers,
Yellowson,
The Fugs,
Visage,
John Cale,
The Zeros,
Quantec,
Sugar Minott,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Franke,
Flipper,
the Swans,
Eddi Front,
ABBA,
Stiv Bators,
Underground Resistance,
Ohio Players,
In Retrospect,
Junior Murvin,
Roxy Music,
Amazonics,
Mars,
Procol Harum,
Danielle Patucci,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Deadbeat,
Isaac Hayes,
The Tremeloes,
Bush Tetras,
This Heat,
Fad Gadget,
The Searchers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Oneida,
Marvin Gaye,
Panda Bear,
Rufus Thomas,
Bobby Sherman,
Unwound,
Buzzcocks,
The Happenings,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Boz Scaggs,
Gang Starr,
Arab on Radar,
New Age Steppers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
X-Ray Spex,
Connie Case,
Al Stewart,
The Knickerbockers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Saints,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eurythmics,
Boredoms,
Brothers Johnson,
The Five Americans,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.