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 Vanuatu and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Lalo Schifrin to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
The Blues Magoos,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Severed Heads,
Gerry Rafferty,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Tremeloes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Connie Case,
Pere Ubu,
Steve Hackett,
Deadbeat,
Slave,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Parry Music,
Lucky Dragons,
Public Enemy,
Sixth Finger,
Blancmange,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Marc Almond,
Ronnie Foster,
Charles Mingus,
Aswad,
Bauhaus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fluxion,
Gang of Four,
The J.B.'s,
Nas,
Rhythm & Sound,
H. Thieme,
Boredoms,
Delon & Dalcan,
Marcia Griffiths,
DJ Style,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mantronix,
The Durutti Column,
Colin Newman,
Davy DMX,
Magma,
Newcleus,
Slick Rick,
Harry Pussy,
Wolf Eyes,
Godley & Creme,
Country Teasers,
Oblivians,
Soft Machine,
Amazonics,
Basic Channel,
Todd Terry,
Thee Headcoats,
Malaria!,
Dual Sessions,
The Doors,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.