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 Manchester.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Holger Czukay 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the electroclash 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unrelated Segments record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lebanon Hanover,
Malaria!,
Warren Ellis,
Tres Demented,
Sound Behaviour,
Josef K,
John Foxx,
Black Moon,
Mission of Burma,
Scratch Acid,
DJ Sneak,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Theoretical Girls,
Khruangbin,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Y Pants,
Dead Boys,
Whodini,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Soft Cell,
Scientists,
Bill Wells,
Ultravox,
The Searchers,
Idris Muhammad,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
T.S.O.L.,
Bronski Beat,
Qualms,
Hoover,
Grey Daturas,
Con Funk Shun,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Durutti Column,
Joyce Sims,
The Cramps,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Thompson Twins,
Man Eating Sloth,
David Bowie,
Kerri Chandler,
Moby Grape,
The Slits,
The Associates,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Walker Brothers,
X-101,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Index,
Mary Jane Girls,
Blancmange,
Oblivians,
Scion,
Flamin' Groovies,
Patti Smith,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Seeds,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Divine Comedy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.