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 St Lucia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Pet Shop Boys to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
The Litter,
Donny Hathaway,
Sun Ra,
The Neon Judgement,
Bobby Womack,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gil Scott Heron,
Funky Four + One,
Supertramp,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Chrome,
Agent Orange,
Soulsonic Force,
Nirvana,
The Beau Brummels,
Funkadelic,
The Red Krayola,
Motorama,
Desert Stars,
Rod Modell,
Lou Christie,
Josef K,
cv313,
Heaven 17,
Flipper,
Alice Coltrane,
New Age Steppers,
Crooked Eye,
Soft Cell,
Lakeside,
Japan,
The Invisible,
David McCallum,
Hasil Adkins,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Moby Grape,
Scratch Acid,
Archie Shepp,
David Axelrod,
Little Man,
Jeff Lynne,
Cybotron,
AZ,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Fortunes,
Nas,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Coltrane,
Throbbing Gristle,
U.S. Maple,
Quando Quango,
Groovy Waters,
Mars,
Hardrive,
X-102,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.