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 Switzerland and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Vogues 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
Bang On A Can,
Dawn Penn,
Mark Hollis,
Banda Bassotti,
Bill Wells,
Mad Mike,
In Retrospect,
Ohio Players,
Accadde A,
Bad Manners,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camouflage,
Freddie Wadling,
Tommy Roe,
The Remains,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Sound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Mission of Burma,
John Coltrane,
Wally Richardson,
Talk Talk,
Monolake,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Johnny Osbourne,
E-Dancer,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Country Teasers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brothers Johnson,
Wasted Youth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sällskapet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Sonics,
The Monks,
These Immortal Souls,
Sonny Sharrock,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nik Kershaw,
Agent Orange,
Moebius,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Unwound,
Funkadelic,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Stereo Dub,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Public Image Ltd.,
China Crisis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultravox,
Tim Buckley,
Danielle Patucci,
Suburban Knight,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth.
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.