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 Bahrain and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Delhi.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Slits to the funk 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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Crash Course in Science,
Roger Hodgson,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Swans,
The Music Machine,
Wolf Eyes,
Moebius,
The Offenders,
Freddie Wadling,
Dave Gahan,
Connie Case,
Terry Callier,
DNA,
The Pretty Things,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Moon,
The Wake,
Roxette,
Talk Talk,
The Move,
Iggy Pop,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Adolescents,
Magma,
The Dead C,
Dual Sessions,
The Techniques,
Al Stewart,
Groovy Waters,
Boogie Down Productions,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Masters at Work,
The Names,
Dead Boys,
Vainqueur,
Marine Girls,
Pere Ubu,
Tears for Fears,
Saccharine Trust,
Maleditus Sound,
Heaven 17,
Todd Terry,
Alphaville,
Mandrill,
Ronan,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Gap Band,
Second Layer,
The Dave Clark Five,
Stereo Dub,
Ronnie Foster,
Mr. Review,
Mars,
Smog,
Isaac Hayes,
Agitation Free,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Barracudas,
Babytalk,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.