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 Bolivia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Susan Cadogan to the dance 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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
The Victims,
Faraquet,
Metal Thangz,
Gang Starr,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Red Krayola,
The Grass Roots,
Wally Richardson,
Henry Cow,
Roxette,
UT,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pagans,
Joensuu 1685,
Suicide,
Soft Machine,
Joey Negro,
the Swans,
Howard Jones,
The Saints,
Lou Christie,
FM Einheit,
Joyce Sims,
The Black Dice,
Boz Scaggs,
Junior Murvin,
Roger Hodgson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Barry Ungar,
Pulsallama,
Von Mondo,
Spoonie Gee,
Talk Talk,
Sällskapet,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Zero Boys,
In Retrospect,
Stiv Bators,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rufus Thomas,
Eden Ahbez,
The Birthday Party,
These Immortal Souls,
Tomorrow,
Charles Mingus,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Selecter,
Girls At Our Best!,
John Coltrane,
8 Eyed Spy,
X-101,
Pierre Henry,
Index,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Mojo Men,
Supertramp,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hasil Adkins,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.