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 Albania and from Lagos.
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 London and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Harmonia to the jazz 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 The Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Fear,
The Fugs,
Alice Coltrane,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rekid,
Swans,
Susan Cadogan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Chris Corsano,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Rapeman,
Camberwell Now,
Clear Light,
X-101,
Wolf Eyes,
Skriet,
Liliput,
Ituana,
Deepchord,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Nico,
Max Romeo,
Reagan Youth,
The Leaves,
The Victims,
Stiv Bators,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mars,
Todd Terry,
Little Man,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scott Walker,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Durutti Column,
The Walker Brothers,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gun Club,
Shuggie Otis,
The Mojo Men,
Amon Düül,
Pantytec,
Harry Pussy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Golliwogs,
Maurizio,
Tears for Fears,
Hoover,
Aswad,
John Cale,
48th St. Collective,
Ronan,
Unwound,
Unrelated Segments,
R.M.O.,
Crispian St. Peters,
Severed Heads,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Smoke,
The Busters,
Mr. Review,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.