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 Costa Rica and from Spokane.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobby Byrd to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar 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 spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
China Crisis,
the Sonics,
Trumans Water,
Thee Headcoats,
Chris Corsano,
Parry Music,
Gong,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Matthew Bourne,
Dark Day,
Public Enemy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tomorrow,
The Doobie Brothers,
Brass Construction,
Monks,
The Fortunes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Last Poets,
Carl Craig,
Mad Mike,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Inner City,
The Kinks,
Scan 7,
Television,
Harry Pussy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Iggy Pop,
James White and The Blacks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
David McCallum,
Curtis Mayfield,
Camouflage,
Zapp,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pet Shop Boys,
David Axelrod,
Girls At Our Best!,
Leonard Cohen,
Alphaville,
The Moleskins,
X-102,
World's Most,
Moby Grape,
The Red Krayola,
The Mojo Men,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Invisible,
Dual Sessions,
Easy Going,
Joey Negro,
Visage,
Eli Mardock,
Yellowson,
Joensuu 1685,
The Buckinghams,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.