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 Suriname and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 mellotron 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 The Music Machine to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Wire,
Outsiders,
Tropical Tobacco,
Goldenarms,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Camouflage,
Bobby Byrd,
The Moleskins,
The Moody Blues,
Sex Pistols,
Sam Rivers,
The Saints,
Pierre Henry,
Vainqueur,
The Names,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Beau Brummels,
The United States of America,
Throbbing Gristle,
Frankie Knuckles,
Drive Like Jehu,
Scion,
Echospace,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Lydon,
Freddie Wadling,
Television,
The Residents,
Section 25,
Dennis Brown,
The New Christs,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Music Machine,
Tommy Roe,
Tres Demented,
Marcia Griffiths,
Harry Pussy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Laurel Aitken,
Soulsonic Force,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Procol Harum,
Matthew Halsall,
Mo-Dettes,
Accadde A,
Yusef Lateef,
Zapp,
Severed Heads,
Metal Thangz,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Slackers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Quantec,
Skriet,
The Monks,
The Star Department,
Delon & Dalcan,
David Axelrod,
T.S.O.L.,
Kevin Saunderson,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.