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 Algeria and from Lille.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lyon.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Joy Division to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Bush Tetras,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bill Near,
Sound Behaviour,
Banda Bassotti,
L. Decosne,
F. McDonald,
Panda Bear,
Shoche,
The Seeds,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bauhaus,
Theoretical Girls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Camberwell Now,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rosa Yemen,
The Beau Brummels,
Pussy Galore,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eden Ahbez,
Stereo Dub,
Stiv Bators,
CMW,
Silicon Teens,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Icehouse,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lower 48,
Nick Fraelich,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Scratch Acid,
Radiopuhelimet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Yusef Lateef,
Peter & Gordon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Nirvana,
Cal Tjader,
The Gun Club,
Severed Heads,
H. Thieme,
Pantaleimon,
Thompson Twins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Knickerbockers,
Accadde A,
Little Man,
Heaven 17,
Porter Ricks,
The Monks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Scott Walker,
Joe Finger,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Q and Not U,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.