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 Suriname and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Pantytec to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mr. Review,
Anthony Braxton,
World's Most,
Barbara Tucker,
Rufus Thomas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Oneida,
Patti Smith,
Aswad,
Minor Threat,
Barry Ungar,
Simply Red,
Bobby Byrd,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Zeros,
Technova,
Barclay James Harvest,
Crooked Eye,
The Selecter,
The Motions,
Aloha Tigers,
Bootsy Collins,
Sam Rivers,
Negative Approach,
Sandy B,
The Sound,
The Cramps,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kas Product,
Young Marble Giants,
Glenn Branca,
The Fuzztones,
Kurtis Blow,
Lucky Dragons,
Jacques Brel,
Derrick May,
Josef K,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Fad Gadget,
The Mojo Men,
Scion,
Eddi Front,
Pussy Galore,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ronnie Foster,
Visage,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Star Department,
Gil Scott Heron,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Boredoms,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra, Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra, Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra, Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra.
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.