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 Comoros and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Index to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
The Dave Clark Five,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Swans,
Pantytec,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gang Starr,
Tears for Fears,
Kenny Larkin,
Letta Mbulu,
Tomorrow,
Todd Rundgren,
The Shadows of Knight,
Donald Byrd,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eurythmics,
Juan Atkins,
Dead Boys,
Quando Quango,
Index,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lou Reed,
Maleditus Sound,
Gregory Isaacs,
Andrew Hill,
Hashim,
The Monks,
Lalann,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Con Funk Shun,
John Coltrane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Can,
Sex Pistols,
Outsiders,
Stetsasonic,
Charles Mingus,
10cc,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Peter & Gordon,
Kaleidoscope,
Terrestrial Tones,
Iggy Pop,
New York Dolls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Godley & Creme,
The Associates,
Panda Bear,
John Lydon,
Joey Negro,
MC5,
World's Most,
Sixth Finger,
Black Pus,
The Selecter,
Gabor Szabo,
the Human League,
Quadrant,
D'Angelo,
Theoretical Girls,
Robert Wyatt,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.