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 the UAE and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Minny Pops to the punk 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dave Gahan,
Ultravox,
The Cramps,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Misunderstood,
Delon & Dalcan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Arthur Verocai,
Moby Grape,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Circle Jerks,
Goldenarms,
Can,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
a-ha,
Fatback Band,
Amazonics,
Grauzone,
Hashim,
Underground Resistance,
The American Breed,
Tim Buckley,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Offenders,
The Moleskins,
The Mummies,
Magazine,
Excepter,
X-102,
The Barracudas,
Skaos,
The Skatalites,
The Monks,
Schoolly D,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lou Christie,
Tommy Roe,
Hardrive,
F. McDonald,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pierre Henry,
8 Eyed Spy,
UT,
Negative Approach,
Eurythmics,
Mars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Blackbyrds,
Marine Girls,
Deadbeat,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Music Machine,
the Soft Cell,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Amon Düül II,
Roger Hodgson,
The Seeds,
Barbara Tucker,
Pere Ubu,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.