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 Guinea-Bissau and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ralphi Rosario to the disco 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Flag,
Cal Tjader,
The J.B.'s,
Piero Umiliani,
Suburban Knight,
Zero Boys,
Animal Collective,
F. McDonald,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ponytail,
Index,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rakim,
Country Teasers,
Alice Coltrane,
The Index,
JFA,
Lower 48,
Visage,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Litter,
Symarip,
Barbara Tucker,
The Saints,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tubeway Army,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ultravox,
Fad Gadget,
Neu!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Grauzone,
Eric Dolphy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Yazoo,
The Buckinghams,
Con Funk Shun,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skaos,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cybotron,
Alton Ellis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Skarface,
Prince Buster,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Trojans,
Ten City,
Lou Christie,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Severed Heads,
The Young Rascals,
Faraquet,
Cymande,
Zapp,
Wolf Eyes,
Pylon,
Unwound,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scott Walker,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.