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 Slovenia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 mellotron 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Aural Exciters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Procol Harum,
Anakelly,
La Düsseldorf,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Cowsills,
the Swans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Association,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Thee Headcoats,
The Wake,
PIL,
Nick Fraelich,
AZ,
Rhythm & Sound,
Man Eating Sloth,
Vainqueur,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cluster,
Sound Behaviour,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Quadrant,
The Busters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stockholm Monsters,
Public Enemy,
Bill Near,
David Bowie,
The Happenings,
Blancmange,
Janne Schatter,
Moss Icon,
Lucky Dragons,
Parry Music,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Robert Hood,
Siglo XX,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Velvet Underground,
The Buckinghams,
Hasil Adkins,
The Vogues,
Lightning Bolt,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Metal Thangz,
Can,
Mr. Review,
Sight & Sound,
Josef K,
Y Pants,
Livin' Joy,
The Slackers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Eden Ahbez,
The Pop Group,
Idris Muhammad,
Scott Walker,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.