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 Benin and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the techno 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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Funkadelic,
The Wake,
Darondo,
Hot Snakes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Second Layer,
James White and The Blacks,
Lalann,
Minutemen,
Spoonie Gee,
Mo-Dettes,
Albert Ayler,
Minor Threat,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Move,
Eurythmics,
the Normal,
Roger Hodgson,
John Foxx,
Cameo,
Piero Umiliani,
X-101,
Unwound,
The Red Krayola,
Bob Dylan,
A Certain Ratio,
Con Funk Shun,
In Retrospect,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Swans,
Jeff Lynne,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Sherman,
Easy Going,
Marmalade,
Suburban Knight,
Robert Wyatt,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Masters at Work,
Susan Cadogan,
Sister Nancy,
Yaz,
Intrusion,
the Sonics,
China Crisis,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Evens,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cheater Slicks,
The Leaves,
Pantaleimon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Newcleus,
Ornette Coleman,
The Tremeloes,
The Birthday Party,
Oneida,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fat Boys,
Gang Gang Dance,
Crispian St. Peters,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.