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 Vanuatu and from Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 harpsichord 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the crunk 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Bootsy Collins,
Donald Byrd,
Dawn Penn,
La Düsseldorf,
Guru Guru,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Black Dice,
Rakim,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Human League,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marc Almond,
Aaron Thompson,
Ronan,
Robert Hood,
Mars,
The Count Five,
Audionom,
The Move,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
John Cale,
June of 44,
Shuggie Otis,
The Stooges,
New York Dolls,
Echospace,
Wire,
Amazonics,
Ronnie Foster,
John Coltrane,
Joey Negro,
Piero Umiliani,
Jacob Miller,
Slick Rick,
The Smiths,
Zero Boys,
Parry Music,
Suburban Knight,
Kurtis Blow,
Fad Gadget,
Ultravox,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fela Kuti,
Anthony Braxton,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
Agitation Free,
The Gap Band,
Fear,
Michelle Simonal,
Althea and Donna,
Depeche Mode,
Kerrie Biddell,
Henry Cow,
kango's stein massive,
Lebanon Hanover,
Cybotron,
CMW,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.