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 Swaziland and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Heaven 17 to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Essential Logic,
Crash Course in Science,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Black Pus,
The Cure,
Fatback Band,
New Age Steppers,
Fear,
Monks,
Piero Umiliani,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fortunes,
Johnny Clarke,
Parry Music,
Silicon Teens,
Excepter,
Sarah Menescal,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
OOIOO,
Donny Hathaway,
Skaos,
MC5,
Dorothy Ashby,
FM Einheit,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Faraquet,
David Axelrod,
Stiv Bators,
MDC,
Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Byron Stingily,
Subhumans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric B and Rakim,
Metal Thangz,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Cale,
The Blues Magoos,
David McCallum,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Inner City,
Maurizio,
Motorama,
The Saints,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Boredoms,
The Durutti Column,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Audionom,
Pussy Galore,
Soul II Soul,
The Count Five,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.