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 Tuvalu and from Johannesburg.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the funk 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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Major Organ And The Adding Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Graham Central Station,
Susan Cadogan,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Red Krayola,
Technova,
Janne Schatter,
Monks,
Tubeway Army,
Delta 5,
The Slackers,
Peter and Kerry,
Nick Fraelich,
Stiv Bators,
Dark Day,
Stockholm Monsters,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Smoke,
The Victims,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mo-Dettes,
JFA,
The Sound,
Henry Cow,
Steve Hackett,
Symarip,
Buzzcocks,
Godley & Creme,
Hoover,
Kenny Larkin,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fat Boys,
Fatback Band,
Gang Starr,
Wolf Eyes,
Bob Dylan,
Ultra Naté,
Half Japanese,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Human League,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Zeros,
Interpol,
Scion,
Tropical Tobacco,
Loose Ends,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rotary Connection,
the Soft Cell,
Cecil Taylor,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eric Copeland,
David Axelrod,
Soft Machine,
Maurizio,
The Selecter,
The American Breed,
Wire,
Little Man,
The Stooges,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.