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 Tunisia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Barclay James Harvest to the grime 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 Carl Craig. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
The Doors,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Stooges,
The Human League,
Lou Reed,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare,
Danielle Patucci,
Juan Atkins,
Eric B and Rakim,
Erykah Badu,
Motorama,
Monks,
10cc,
Eve St. Jones,
The Techniques,
The Raincoats,
Q65,
Todd Rundgren,
Byron Stingily,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nirvana,
The Remains,
R.M.O.,
Tim Buckley,
Rosa Yemen,
Make Up,
Morten Harket,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bush Tetras,
Sugar Minott,
Kerri Chandler,
Procol Harum,
Roxy Music,
Parry Music,
Dead Boys,
Quantec,
Desert Stars,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gang Starr,
Skarface,
Scion,
Warren Ellis,
Main Source,
The Martian,
The Sonics,
Babytalk,
The Dirtbombs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Royal Trux,
Blake Baxter,
Henry Cow,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Colin Newman,
The Monks,
Eli Mardock,
Fad Gadget,
The Grass Roots,
Ludus,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.