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 Ireland and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kerrie Biddell to the electroclash 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
The Fire Engines,
Neil Young,
Camouflage,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
CMW,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Can,
Marcia Griffiths,
Roy Ayers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Christie,
John Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Lakeside,
Soft Cell,
Mantronix,
Gabor Szabo,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cybotron,
Harry Pussy,
Altered Images,
The Detroit Cobras,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lightning Bolt,
The Last Poets,
New Age Steppers,
Nas,
The Offenders,
Amon Düül II,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Monolake,
The Names,
Judy Mowatt,
Leonard Cohen,
Aural Exciters,
Ultra Naté,
Bill Wells,
Organ,
Stiv Bators,
Jawbox,
Youth Brigade,
Ken Boothe,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deakin,
Maleditus Sound,
Pierre Henry,
The Tremeloes,
The Toasters,
Flipper,
Visage,
Faraquet,
The Dave Clark Five,
DJ Style,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.