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 Malaysia and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Second Layer to the grunge 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Depeche Mode,
Scratch Acid,
Idris Muhammad,
Pet Shop Boys,
Yusef Lateef,
DJ Style,
Kurtis Blow,
Altered Images,
Patti Smith,
Scion,
Johnny Clarke,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Smoke,
Alton Ellis,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Todd Rundgren,
Bluetip,
Clear Light,
Qualms,
K-Klass,
Severed Heads,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Byron Stingily,
Shoche,
Nik Kershaw,
cv313,
Zapp,
Royal Trux,
Danielle Patucci,
Bill Wells,
Piero Umiliani,
Sex Pistols,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Minnie Riperton,
Siglo XX,
Gang Starr,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Sisters of Mercy,
ABC,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Soul II Soul,
The Shadows of Knight,
Echospace,
Banda Bassotti,
The Pretty Things,
the Association,
Vainqueur,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Doors,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pere Ubu,
Sällskapet,
kango's stein massive,
Eve St. Jones,
Brand Nubian,
Cymande,
Bush Tetras,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.