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 Kosovo and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 spring reverb 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 The United States of America to the funk 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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran 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 punk 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 mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Thee Headcoats,
Arab on Radar,
Panda Bear,
Scion,
Junior Murvin,
Skarface,
David McCallum,
Interpol,
X-101,
Moss Icon,
Theoretical Girls,
Amon Düül,
Henry Cow,
Brass Construction,
Ice-T,
Bad Manners,
Maurizio,
Visage,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Cramps,
The Detroit Cobras,
Alison Limerick,
Morten Harket,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Colin Newman,
Ten City,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Index,
Symarip,
Fad Gadget,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Duran Duran,
Nation of Ulysses,
Circle Jerks,
Tim Buckley,
Neil Young,
Peter and Kerry,
Bush Tetras,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Model 500,
Japan,
Unrelated Segments,
Crime,
The Slits,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Drive Like Jehu,
Smog,
Girls At Our Best!,
Judy Mowatt,
The Gories,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Public Image Ltd.,
Grandmaster Flash,
Faraquet,
June Days,
Arcadia,
Echospace,
Popol Vuh,
Black Bananas,
Mr. Review,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.