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 Bahrain and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Donald Fagen 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 Pantytec to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Absolute Body Control,
F. McDonald,
The Raincoats,
John Holt,
Davy DMX,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Aloha Tigers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Clear Light,
Los Fastidios,
The Divine Comedy,
The Golliwogs,
Faust,
The Searchers,
Pylon,
The Moleskins,
Gang Gang Dance,
Masters at Work,
Ronan,
The Gladiators,
Vladislav Delay,
Fear,
Subhumans,
Gabor Szabo,
Hashim,
The Blues Magoos,
Blake Baxter,
DJ Sneak,
Lower 48,
Flash Fearless,
Erykah Badu,
Donald Byrd,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ituana,
Kerrie Biddell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Quando Quango,
Boz Scaggs,
Gang Green,
Brass Construction,
Glenn Branca,
David Axelrod,
The Walker Brothers,
Al Stewart,
Bill Near,
The United States of America,
June of 44,
Minutemen,
The Shadows of Knight,
Camberwell Now,
Pantytec,
Kerri Chandler,
10cc,
Eli Mardock,
Thee Headcoats,
Thompson Twins,
Crime,
Altered Images,
Lalann,
Tom Boy,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.