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 Kazakhstan and from Bremen.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Motions to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Sandy B,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bauhaus,
Siglo XX,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Birthday Party,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Vogues,
Gong,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Slick Rick,
Mars,
Eurythmics,
The Evens,
Dark Day,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Drive Like Jehu,
Black Pus,
Donald Byrd,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Association,
Slave,
Bronski Beat,
Patti Smith,
Roxy Music,
Todd Rundgren,
Brothers Johnson,
Robert Görl,
Scratch Acid,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Malaria!,
The Searchers,
Television,
Duran Duran,
Scott Walker,
Terry Callier,
Derrick May,
Drexciya,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Can,
Sonny Sharrock,
Carl Craig,
Banda Bassotti,
Traffic Nightmare,
Faraquet,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hot Snakes,
Pylon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boz Scaggs,
The Victims,
Echospace,
Jeff Lynne,
Rosa Yemen,
Eli Mardock,
Jandek,
The Dave Clark Five,
Darondo,
Brand Nubian,
Soft Cell,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.