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 Luxembourg and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 marimba 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 Camberwell Now to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Basic Channel,
48th St. Collective,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Hardrive,
Peter & Gordon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
B.T. Express,
AZ,
The Wake,
X-102,
Depeche Mode,
Jacques Brel,
Saccharine Trust,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sister Nancy,
Dead Boys,
Pulsallama,
cv313,
Tubeway Army,
Deadbeat,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Association,
Chris & Cosey,
Lower 48,
Marcia Griffiths,
Zapp,
H. Thieme,
Blancmange,
Bang On A Can,
Black Flag,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Robert Wyatt,
the Germs,
Desert Stars,
Agent Orange,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Skriet,
Eli Mardock,
The Real Kids,
the Bar-Kays,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camouflage,
The Searchers,
Brothers Johnson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Leonard Cohen,
Matthew Bourne,
Sugar Minott,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cramps,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Erasure,
Bush Tetras,
Pussy Galore,
The Fall,
Isaac Hayes,
The Misunderstood,
Maurizio,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dave Clark Five,
Josef K,
Joe Finger,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.