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 Liberia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cameo to the electroclash 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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Unwound,
Porter Ricks,
Suicide,
The Smoke,
Rosa Yemen,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mr. Review,
H. Thieme,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultimate Spinach,
Main Source,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Barry Ungar,
Delta 5,
Bobby Byrd,
Tomorrow,
Swell Maps,
Todd Terry,
Wasted Youth,
Jimmy McGriff,
Visage,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Monks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fluxion,
MC5,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Invisible,
Malaria!,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Cowsills,
The Blackbyrds,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soft Machine,
Freddie Wadling,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Harpers Bizarre,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Alison Limerick,
Bobby Sherman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
48th St. Collective,
The Gun Club,
Unrelated Segments,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Germs,
Gang Green,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Stiv Bators,
Can,
The Doobie Brothers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
June Days,
The Fire Engines,
ABC,
Jeff Lynne,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.