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 Kosovo and from Mumbai.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
The Evens,
The Birthday Party,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Monks,
Infiniti,
The Music Machine,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cheater Slicks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Zero Boys,
Youth Brigade,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ultra Naté,
Robert Wyatt,
Ohio Players,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Q65,
Deadbeat,
The United States of America,
The Zeros,
The Techniques,
The Durutti Column,
Eric Dolphy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wasted Youth,
David McCallum,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roy Ayers,
Bauhaus,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Electric Prunes,
Crime,
The Smiths,
Blake Baxter,
Yusef Lateef,
Los Fastidios,
Frankie Knuckles,
Scott Walker,
Hot Snakes,
Soft Cell,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Move,
the Association,
Robert Görl,
Liliput,
Amazonics,
China Crisis,
Tom Boy,
Banda Bassotti,
Toni Rubio,
Roxette,
Supertramp,
Con Funk Shun,
Inner City,
DJ Sneak,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Crash Course in Science,
Newcleus,
Sandy B,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.