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 Denmark and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Hong Kong and Toronto.
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 synthesizer 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 Kas Product to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All This Heat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Kurtis Blow,
Josef K,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Golliwogs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sun City Girls,
Susan Cadogan,
Underground Resistance,
Derrick Morgan,
The Sound,
The Index,
The Blackbyrds,
Wings,
The Litter,
Roxy Music,
Cymande,
John Coltrane,
The Martian,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Organ,
The Offenders,
Bob Dylan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Agent Orange,
The Five Americans,
John Foxx,
Nik Kershaw,
The Velvet Underground,
Youth Brigade,
Henry Cow,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Davy DMX,
X-Ray Spex,
Spandau Ballet,
Khruangbin,
Yusef Lateef,
The Beau Brummels,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Intrusion,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
H. Thieme,
Ituana,
Yellowson,
AZ,
The Neon Judgement,
Jacob Miller,
Throbbing Gristle,
F. McDonald,
Lindisfarne,
Nico,
Chrome,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tubeway Army,
Public Enemy,
Soulsonic Force,
Dennis Brown,
Siglo XX,
Model 500,
Eddi Front,
Delon & Dalcan,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.