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 Madagascar and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Pylon to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Pantytec,
The Offenders,
Black Flag,
Alton Ellis,
Tomorrow,
Nico,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eurythmics,
Boogie Down Productions,
Easy Going,
Malaria!,
A Certain Ratio,
Michelle Simonal,
T. Rex,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Pretty Things,
Smog,
Mantronix,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nirvana,
Max Romeo,
Eric Copeland,
Talk Talk,
The Electric Prunes,
Depeche Mode,
L. Decosne,
Wally Richardson,
B.T. Express,
Deakin,
The Martian,
a-ha,
Wolf Eyes,
Flash Fearless,
Tres Demented,
Mad Mike,
Siglo XX,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eden Ahbez,
The Gories,
Soulsonic Force,
Niagra,
Stiv Bators,
the Germs,
The Evens,
The Last Poets,
La Düsseldorf,
Minor Threat,
Fugazi,
Lou Reed,
Little Man,
Severed Heads,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Buckinghams,
Aaron Thompson,
Maurizio,
Jacob Miller,
The Mojo Men,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
ABBA,
Terrestrial Tones,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.