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 Marshall Islands and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar 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 The Moody Blues to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cure. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bad Manners record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Scion,
Scan 7,
Public Enemy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Scrapy,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Mummies,
Mars,
James White and The Blacks,
The Skatalites,
Ornette Coleman,
Technova,
June of 44,
The Cosmic Jokers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Blake Baxter,
Glenn Branca,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Walker Brothers,
The Toasters,
The Music Machine,
Sam Rivers,
Minnie Riperton,
Camouflage,
Quantec,
Mad Mike,
The Victims,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kayak,
Marmalade,
UT,
Theoretical Girls,
Camberwell Now,
Rakim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tomorrow,
Procol Harum,
The Star Department,
Nico,
FM Einheit,
John Cale,
Desert Stars,
EPMD,
Archie Shepp,
Toni Rubio,
Tom Boy,
Freddie Wadling,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
cv313,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Sheep,
Albert Ayler,
The Residents,
Qualms,
The Doors,
Dark Day,
Deepchord,
Andrew Hill,
The Saints,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.