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 Romania and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Cairo.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ralphi Rosario to the punk 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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
Grey Daturas,
Arab on Radar,
The Cramps,
Frankie Knuckles,
Roxy Music,
Marvin Gaye,
Swell Maps,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sound Behaviour,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mission of Burma,
Laurel Aitken,
Letta Mbulu,
Lou Christie,
F. McDonald,
Royal Trux,
Henry Cow,
John Lydon,
Spoonie Gee,
Black Moon,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang Green,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Slick Rick,
Carl Craig,
The Angels of Light,
The Human League,
Bobby Womack,
Todd Rundgren,
Boz Scaggs,
Technova,
Surgeon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Michelle Simonal,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scott Walker,
The Dirtbombs,
Aloha Tigers,
One Last Wish,
Pere Ubu,
Yellowson,
Kenny Larkin,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Music Machine,
New Age Steppers,
Colin Newman,
Toni Rubio,
Man Eating Sloth,
Blossom Toes,
The Wake,
The United States of America,
Model 500,
B.T. Express,
Theoretical Girls,
Howard Jones,
DJ Sneak,
Buzzcocks,
Lalann,
The Mighty Diamonds,
La Düsseldorf,
Niagra,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.