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 Botswana and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Robert Palmer 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 The Slits to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
X-102,
Brass Construction,
Spoonie Gee,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Derrick May,
Black Moon,
Motorama,
The Names,
DNA,
Lee Hazlewood,
Todd Rundgren,
Silicon Teens,
Morten Harket,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Slackers,
Sex Pistols,
Ludus,
Can,
Roger Hodgson,
Intrusion,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bush Tetras,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Little Man,
Al Stewart,
Altered Images,
Shoche,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Bar-Kays,
Qualms,
Soft Machine,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Wolf Eyes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Clear Light,
Second Layer,
Average White Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Saints,
T.S.O.L.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Echospace,
Marmalade,
Sister Nancy,
Soft Cell,
The Beau Brummels,
Jandek,
The Leaves,
Josef K,
Banda Bassotti,
Minnie Riperton,
Subhumans,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Moleskins,
Slick Rick,
Idris Muhammad,
The Count Five,
Rapeman,
Davy DMX,
Deadbeat,
The Seeds,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.