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 Australia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 clarinet 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 Radiopuhelimet to the rap 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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Freddie Wadling,
Kerrie Biddell,
Roy Ayers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Boz Scaggs,
The Electric Prunes,
The Cowsills,
These Immortal Souls,
Connie Case,
Radio Birdman,
The Techniques,
Johnny Clarke,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kerri Chandler,
Theoretical Girls,
Michelle Simonal,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bronski Beat,
Second Layer,
Gichy Dan,
Thee Headcoats,
The Cramps,
Severed Heads,
Young Marble Giants,
The Doors,
Talk Talk,
Maleditus Sound,
Joey Negro,
Quando Quango,
Bluetip,
The Victims,
Hashim,
Black Flag,
Dead Boys,
Sunsets and Hearts,
In Retrospect,
The Smiths,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scion,
Eurythmics,
The Buckinghams,
Yellowson,
OOIOO,
Lindisfarne,
the Swans,
Can,
cv313,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
K-Klass,
Unrelated Segments,
Unwound,
David Bowie,
Davy DMX,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Vogues,
The New Christs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Slits,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.