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 Estonia and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Subhumans to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
The Slackers,
The Selecter,
Eric Copeland,
The Blues Magoos,
10cc,
Roger Hodgson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Sheep,
The Leaves,
Mad Mike,
Clear Light,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bobby Womack,
The Cowsills,
Infiniti,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Buckinghams,
Spoonie Gee,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jawbox,
Scratch Acid,
Bluetip,
David Axelrod,
Duran Duran,
Sex Pistols,
the Germs,
Warsaw,
Wire,
Con Funk Shun,
Urselle,
The Moody Blues,
David McCallum,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Cramps,
Q and Not U,
Easy Going,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pantaleimon,
Janne Schatter,
The Golliwogs,
Visage,
Vladislav Delay,
Desert Stars,
Bob Dylan,
Joyce Sims,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Skatalites,
Deakin,
Ossler,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mr. Review,
The Doors,
Los Fastidios,
Silicon Teens,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Television,
The Moleskins,
Whodini,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.