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 Guatemala and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Aural Exciters to the funk 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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Supertramp,
Deakin,
Metal Thangz,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Carl Craig,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Goldenarms,
Youth Brigade,
Simply Red,
Trumans Water,
The Busters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Popol Vuh,
Junior Murvin,
Dawn Penn,
Terry Callier,
The Happenings,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Boredoms,
Country Teasers,
K-Klass,
Brand Nubian,
Mars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Yellowson,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Monochrome Set,
Moby Grape,
Gang of Four,
Scott Walker,
Cal Tjader,
The Fuzztones,
Dual Sessions,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Techniques,
Surgeon,
Hot Snakes,
The Knickerbockers,
Soul Sonic Force,
T.S.O.L.,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Eden Ahbez,
Pere Ubu,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wire,
Sandy B,
Arcadia,
Silicon Teens,
Flash Fearless,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yaz,
Deadbeat,
R.M.O.,
8 Eyed Spy,
Archie Shepp,
Eli Mardock,
Don Cherry,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.