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 Samoa and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Stockholm.
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 linndrum 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 Johnny Clarke to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Duran Duran record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Todd Rundgren,
Porter Ricks,
Mission of Burma,
Quantec,
Silicon Teens,
The Fortunes,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cecil Taylor,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wings,
Jeru the Damaja,
Blossom Toes,
Don Cherry,
The Fire Engines,
Jacques Brel,
Quando Quango,
A Certain Ratio,
Nik Kershaw,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tres Demented,
Skaos,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scion,
Deepchord,
Henry Cow,
Cal Tjader,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Smog,
Depeche Mode,
Ken Boothe,
UT,
Guru Guru,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Soul II Soul,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Minny Pops,
Easy Going,
Q65,
Severed Heads,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
John Lydon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Wally Richardson,
Jerry's Kids,
Grauzone,
the Swans,
Bobby Womack,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Arthur Verocai,
Flamin' Groovies,
Man Parrish,
The Mojo Men,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Stereo Dub,
The New Christs,
John Foxx,
Bluetip,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.