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 Angola and from Lyon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Blancmange to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
The Dirtbombs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Toni Rubio,
Bobby Womack,
Shuggie Otis,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Motions,
UT,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brass Construction,
Bob Dylan,
The Names,
Grauzone,
Newcleus,
Juan Atkins,
Suburban Knight,
Flipper,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tomorrow,
Los Fastidios,
Lou Reed,
The Fugs,
New Age Steppers,
Lee Hazlewood,
Metal Thangz,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
Amon Düül II,
Isaac Hayes,
The Selecter,
Au Pairs,
Bauhaus,
Schoolly D,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Black Moon,
The Tremeloes,
Slick Rick,
Deepchord,
Bronski Beat,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Blossom Toes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cluster,
the Sonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
X-102,
Delon & Dalcan,
Moebius,
The Wake,
The Human League,
Joey Negro,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
the Germs,
MDC,
The Cramps,
Matthew Bourne,
Essential Logic,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.