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 Malaysia and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Flesh Eaters to the grunge 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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 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 Flesh Eaters,
Rites of Spring,
The Sonics,
The Wake,
the Slits,
Echospace,
Suburban Knight,
Moby Grape,
The Walker Brothers,
The Neon Judgement,
Adolescents,
Albert Ayler,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Fuzztones,
One Last Wish,
Matthew Halsall,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roger Hodgson,
Colin Newman,
Severed Heads,
the Swans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Amazonics,
Arab on Radar,
Liliput,
The Kinks,
Aural Exciters,
Mr. Review,
Soft Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Easy Going,
Surgeon,
Fluxion,
Gabor Szabo,
The Vogues,
Ice-T,
Desert Stars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Inner City,
Soul Sonic Force,
Frankie Knuckles,
Max Romeo,
Smog,
Freddie Wadling,
Soul II Soul,
Grandmaster Flash,
Interpol,
Underground Resistance,
Mad Mike,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Electric Prunes,
Kas Product,
The Beau Brummels,
Derrick May,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Dirtbombs,
Wally Richardson,
the Germs,
Skriet,
Clear Light,
Bootsy Collins,
The Fortunes,
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground.
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.