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 Macedonia and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Star Department to the grime 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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Bar-Kays,
Pet Shop Boys,
T. Rex,
The Victims,
Talk Talk,
Second Layer,
Soft Machine,
Johnny Osbourne,
X-102,
Ornette Coleman,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Young Rascals,
Bill Near,
New York Dolls,
Crash Course in Science,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Pus,
Pierre Henry,
Nas,
Crispy Ambulance,
K-Klass,
June of 44,
Dead Boys,
David Bowie,
Iggy Pop,
Slick Rick,
Eric Dolphy,
Derrick Morgan,
Joyce Sims,
Flamin' Groovies,
Symarip,
Anthony Braxton,
The Five Americans,
The Monks,
Franke,
Bill Wells,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wings,
Sandy B,
Man Eating Sloth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
China Crisis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Index,
Groovy Waters,
Television Personalities,
The Pretty Things,
The Smoke,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scott Walker,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fatback Band,
The Zeros,
Quadrant,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Sherman,
Brick,
The Doors,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.