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 Vietnam and from London.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the sitar 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 Gang of Four to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Smoke,
Kaleidoscope,
Yusef Lateef,
John Cale,
Black Sheep,
The Buckinghams,
Depeche Mode,
Soft Cell,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
John Foxx,
The American Breed,
Suicide,
Grey Daturas,
Archie Shepp,
Parry Music,
Yaz,
Terry Callier,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sarah Menescal,
Scientists,
Sällskapet,
Flash Fearless,
Agitation Free,
Morten Harket,
Ultravox,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Marine Girls,
Camouflage,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ronan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kurtis Blow,
The Gun Club,
Average White Band,
The Angels of Light,
Stereo Dub,
Porter Ricks,
Cybotron,
Lakeside,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Brick,
Barry Ungar,
Donald Byrd,
U.S. Maple,
Derrick Morgan,
Aloha Tigers,
Niagra,
Pulsallama,
the Normal,
Toni Rubio,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mark Hollis,
Warren Ellis,
Sparks,
Suburban Knight,
Junior Murvin,
Malaria!,
The Pretty Things,
Oneida,
Ken Boothe,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.