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 Sri Lanka and from New York.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 harpsichord 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the grime 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Pretty Things,
Agitation Free,
The Dirtbombs,
The J.B.'s,
Pulsallama,
Sight & Sound,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fatback Band,
Inner City,
Sex Pistols,
Ultravox,
Donald Byrd,
Slave,
Jacques Brel,
Banda Bassotti,
Anakelly,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roy Ayers,
Boz Scaggs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Camberwell Now,
the Soft Cell,
Saccharine Trust,
The Knickerbockers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
FM Einheit,
Blake Baxter,
June Days,
PIL,
Swell Maps,
Nik Kershaw,
Second Layer,
Dorothy Ashby,
Peter and Kerry,
Harry Pussy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sun Ra,
The Names,
Gong,
Carl Craig,
Crime,
Easy Going,
Scion,
Pantaleimon,
The Fall,
Deepchord,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Monks,
Lucky Dragons,
Sister Nancy,
Index,
Television Personalities,
The Slits,
U.S. Maple,
Accadde A,
The Velvet Underground,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.