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 Thailand and from Jakarta.
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 Glasgow and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 PIL to the crunk 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Roxette,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crooked Eye,
Kerri Chandler,
T.S.O.L.,
This Heat,
Heaven 17,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Matthew Bourne,
The Blues Magoos,
Mr. Review,
Audionom,
The Kinks,
Deakin,
The Blackbyrds,
Eddi Front,
Pantaleimon,
Ronan,
Sparks,
H. Thieme,
Dawn Penn,
Guru Guru,
Spoonie Gee,
Rites of Spring,
Adolescents,
Jacob Miller,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jerry's Kids,
Cheater Slicks,
Rufus Thomas,
Japan,
Public Image Ltd.,
One Last Wish,
Rotary Connection,
Faust,
Loose Ends,
The Slackers,
Robert Görl,
Sugar Minott,
Curtis Mayfield,
Radio Birdman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Accadde A,
T. Rex,
New Age Steppers,
Malaria!,
Tomorrow,
Los Fastidios,
The Selecter,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roger Hodgson,
Smog,
Nik Kershaw,
Michelle Simonal,
Tubeway Army,
Graham Central Station,
Joensuu 1685,
Saccharine Trust,
Bauhaus,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.