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 Iran and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the disco 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Smog,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lakeside,
Quando Quango,
Fluxion,
Johnny Osbourne,
Depeche Mode,
Bill Wells,
Sandy B,
Alphaville,
Rotary Connection,
the Association,
The Mummies,
Excepter,
Fear,
The Motions,
Absolute Body Control,
Susan Cadogan,
Pet Shop Boys,
Vainqueur,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Hashim,
a-ha,
cv313,
Alton Ellis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ituana,
Todd Rundgren,
Kerrie Biddell,
Radio Birdman,
Y Pants,
Wasted Youth,
Suicide,
The Doors,
Archie Shepp,
The Buckinghams,
La Düsseldorf,
Angry Samoans,
Fela Kuti,
F. McDonald,
Harry Pussy,
Aloha Tigers,
Magazine,
Isaac Hayes,
Nico,
Judy Mowatt,
Marine Girls,
The Human League,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Neon Judgement,
Byron Stingily,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Cowsills,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
EPMD,
Deepchord,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Durutti Column,
Massinfluence,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.