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 Mauritius and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 London and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
Neu!,
Hashim,
The Martian,
Vladislav Delay,
Organ,
Eurythmics,
The Misunderstood,
Sex Pistols,
L. Decosne,
Sam Rivers,
Peter & Gordon,
Lyres,
Rotary Connection,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bobby Sherman,
Jeff Mills,
Gang Green,
Grey Daturas,
The Detroit Cobras,
Arab on Radar,
The Litter,
Todd Rundgren,
Freddie Wadling,
Wasted Youth,
Faraquet,
Hardrive,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sarah Menescal,
The Names,
Darondo,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Alarm Clocks,
Reagan Youth,
Surgeon,
Lou Reed,
Suburban Knight,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bush Tetras,
Monks,
Gong,
Kerrie Biddell,
Goldenarms,
The Fuzztones,
Barry Ungar,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Archie Shepp,
Scion,
PIL,
The Residents,
Zero Boys,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Camouflage,
New Order,
Q and Not U,
Roy Ayers,
The Monks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.