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 Uruguay and from Beijing.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Jesper Dahlback to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
World's Most,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dead Boys,
Urselle,
Terry Callier,
The Skatalites,
Alison Limerick,
Liliput,
Faust,
Anakelly,
Radiohead,
Bob Dylan,
The Searchers,
Moebius,
Mars,
Pussy Galore,
Spandau Ballet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Quantec,
The Dirtbombs,
Minnie Riperton,
Jesper Dahlback,
Derrick Morgan,
The Birthday Party,
Roxette,
Zapp,
The Victims,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Durutti Column,
Iggy Pop,
Suburban Knight,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Magazine,
Desert Stars,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Deakin,
Albert Ayler,
The Move,
The Tremeloes,
Eve St. Jones,
The Beau Brummels,
ABBA,
Duran Duran,
Jeff Mills,
Steve Hackett,
Theoretical Girls,
Model 500,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jacques Brel,
Gang of Four,
Ultra Naté,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Altered Images,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marc Almond,
Peter and Kerry,
Swans,
Josef K,
Harry Pussy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.