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 Brunei and from Philadelphia.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Milan.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mary Jane Girls to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
New Age Steppers,
Chrome,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Television Personalities,
Organ,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Walker Brothers,
the Germs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Glambeats Corp.,
New Order,
Roxy Music,
Lebanon Hanover,
F. McDonald,
Von Mondo,
Colin Newman,
Black Pus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Judy Mowatt,
The Gladiators,
Roger Hodgson,
Lou Christie,
The Durutti Column,
Pantytec,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
L. Decosne,
Marc Almond,
The Saints,
John Cale,
Magazine,
Bronski Beat,
Model 500,
Hasil Adkins,
Gang of Four,
Brick,
The Pop Group,
Minutemen,
Stockholm Monsters,
Matthew Bourne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sam Rivers,
Subhumans,
Barbara Tucker,
John Holt,
Cameo,
Robert Görl,
Faust,
David Axelrod,
Ronnie Foster,
Yellowson,
This Heat,
Unwound,
Sandy B,
Symarip,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ronan,
Groovy Waters,
Minnie Riperton,
Oneida,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.