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 Tajikistan and from Milan.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Leaves to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Eli Mardock,
Kaleidoscope,
Subhumans,
The Young Rascals,
Roy Ayers,
Connie Case,
Faraquet,
Nirvana,
The Techniques,
Depeche Mode,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Toasters,
Max Romeo,
Alton Ellis,
Avey Tare,
Faust,
Warren Ellis,
Johnny Clarke,
Organ,
Lebanon Hanover,
Barry Ungar,
Lakeside,
Grauzone,
K-Klass,
Crash Course in Science,
Harry Pussy,
Icehouse,
Roxy Music,
Bobby Womack,
Parry Music,
The Mojo Men,
Tomorrow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Quando Quango,
Average White Band,
The Associates,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Vainqueur,
The Remains,
Rod Modell,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dawn Penn,
Whodini,
Black Pus,
Yaz,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
June Days,
Charles Mingus,
X-Ray Spex,
Brick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Howard Jones,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Shuggie Otis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Fuzztones,
Pole,
Robert Hood,
Man Eating Sloth,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.