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 Georgia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Sexual Harrassment to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Niagra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Brick,
Anthony Braxton,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fad Gadget,
the Sonics,
Suicide,
Tim Buckley,
Black Pus,
The New Christs,
The Moleskins,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Arab on Radar,
Flipper,
Little Man,
Alison Limerick,
The Fuzztones,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Stooges,
AZ,
DJ Sneak,
Sister Nancy,
a-ha,
Dennis Brown,
FM Einheit,
Con Funk Shun,
Colin Newman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Idris Muhammad,
David Bowie,
Skriet,
The American Breed,
Kayak,
Jeff Mills,
Al Stewart,
David McCallum,
The Pop Group,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kerri Chandler,
Pet Shop Boys,
Derrick Morgan,
Don Cherry,
Trumans Water,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Connie Case,
Bootsy Collins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Juan Atkins,
Animal Collective,
MC5,
Howard Jones,
The Busters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Amazonics,
Yaz,
Monks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Flamin' Groovies,
Smog,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.