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 Laos and from Manila.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Sao Paulo.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 The Tremeloes to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
B.T. Express,
June of 44,
Absolute Body Control,
Drexciya,
Soul II Soul,
Lucky Dragons,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fugs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bob Dylan,
Black Bananas,
Ornette Coleman,
Pantytec,
The Young Rascals,
The Gap Band,
Don Cherry,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Dirtbombs,
Livin' Joy,
Camouflage,
The Residents,
The Gladiators,
Fugazi,
Howard Jones,
Kurtis Blow,
Swell Maps,
Joensuu 1685,
The Dave Clark Five,
Graham Central Station,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Arthur Verocai,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Blossom Toes,
Motorama,
Pole,
The Moleskins,
the Germs,
Moss Icon,
Grauzone,
John Lydon,
Faust,
James White and The Blacks,
Pierre Henry,
Faraquet,
Barrington Levy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wolf Eyes,
Procol Harum,
The American Breed,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Vogues,
Tim Buckley,
R.M.O.,
Laurel Aitken,
Sugar Minott,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Susan Cadogan,
Das Ding,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.