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 Cape Verde and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the snare 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 Ultravox to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
DJ Sneak,
Au Pairs,
The Associates,
Howard Jones,
Rhythm & Sound,
Niagra,
Roy Ayers,
John Foxx,
Y Pants,
Wolf Eyes,
Drexciya,
Scott Walker,
Man Parrish,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Massinfluence,
Eric Copeland,
Quadrant,
Byron Stingily,
Bluetip,
Bootsy Collins,
Robert Görl,
The Stooges,
David McCallum,
Gong,
Tears for Fears,
La Düsseldorf,
Soft Machine,
the Association,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Flamin' Groovies,
June of 44,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Terry Callier,
Simply Red,
Swans,
Roxy Music,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Michelle Simonal,
AZ,
Dennis Brown,
Janne Schatter,
Jandek,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stockholm Monsters,
X-Ray Spex,
June Days,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Laurel Aitken,
Unwound,
Crooked Eye,
Rapeman,
Urselle,
Mission of Burma,
B.T. Express,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Last Poets,
These Immortal Souls,
H. Thieme,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lightning Bolt,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.