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 Dominica and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Guru Guru to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Scrapy,
Throbbing Gristle,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Idris Muhammad,
MDC,
Animal Collective,
Gichy Dan,
Metal Thangz,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Black Bananas,
Gong,
Black Flag,
The Modern Lovers,
Dave Gahan,
Alphaville,
The Gap Band,
Blossom Toes,
Johnny Clarke,
Black Pus,
Steve Hackett,
Mission of Burma,
Ronan,
Little Man,
Adolescents,
Zapp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Oblivians,
The Young Rascals,
Desert Stars,
Banda Bassotti,
Derrick May,
Spandau Ballet,
Deepchord,
Robert Hood,
Big Daddy Kane,
CMW,
Danielle Patucci,
Tubeway Army,
The Five Americans,
Donald Byrd,
Maurizio,
Bauhaus,
The Monochrome Set,
One Last Wish,
the Slits,
Pagans,
Althea and Donna,
Motorama,
The Happenings,
Nico,
Rod Modell,
Jerry's Kids,
The Misunderstood,
Quando Quango,
Bad Manners,
The Blackbyrds,
Stereo Dub,
X-101,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aural Exciters,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.