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 Libya and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rakim to the grunge 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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lakeside record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Technova,
Icehouse,
Al Stewart,
Agent Orange,
Terry Callier,
The Motions,
New York Dolls,
Alton Ellis,
Inner City,
Tom Boy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jeff Lynne,
The Monks,
Bang On A Can,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rites of Spring,
Malaria!,
DJ Sneak,
The Slackers,
Desert Stars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Matthew Halsall,
Derrick May,
The Angels of Light,
Black Pus,
Banda Bassotti,
The Index,
Mission of Burma,
Excepter,
Infiniti,
OOIOO,
The Smoke,
This Heat,
John Foxx,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pagans,
Monks,
CMW,
The Tremeloes,
The Gladiators,
The United States of America,
Marine Girls,
Zapp,
The Walker Brothers,
Blake Baxter,
Brothers Johnson,
The Golliwogs,
Reagan Youth,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ohio Players,
the Normal,
Bush Tetras,
Lalann,
Unrelated Segments,
Mars,
Thee Headcoats,
Grauzone,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.