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 Norway and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gichy Dan. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Aloha Tigers,
T. Rex,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Sonics,
Crooked Eye,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Funky Four + One,
Deadbeat,
Ronnie Foster,
Fad Gadget,
Deepchord,
Spoonie Gee,
Alton Ellis,
Marvin Gaye,
The Durutti Column,
Negative Approach,
Piero Umiliani,
Patti Smith,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ornette Coleman,
The Stooges,
Gichy Dan,
The Index,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minor Threat,
The Young Rascals,
The Leaves,
Magma,
Bauhaus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scrapy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Bananas,
Loose Ends,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fuzztones,
Steve Hackett,
Franke,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Skarface,
Y Pants,
Rosa Yemen,
Monks,
Sun City Girls,
The Skatalites,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Dark Day,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Techniques,
Echospace,
The Velvet Underground,
Essential Logic,
Motorama,
Gang Gang Dance,
Parry Music,
The Pop Group,
Scott Walker,
the Germs,
Crime,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.