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 Germany and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Oblivians to the crunk 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 Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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?
Porter Ricks,
Mr. Review,
Bill Near,
The United States of America,
Kenny Larkin,
Rapeman,
Kerri Chandler,
MDC,
Magma,
Lucky Dragons,
Silicon Teens,
The Smiths,
Moebius,
The Dave Clark Five,
ABBA,
The Leaves,
The Dirtbombs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Music Machine,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Coltrane,
Hoover,
Harpers Bizarre,
Essential Logic,
Morten Harket,
Skriet,
New York Dolls,
James White and The Blacks,
Juan Atkins,
D'Angelo,
Kaleidoscope,
Eric Copeland,
The Buckinghams,
Television,
The Tremeloes,
The Move,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lalann,
Easy Going,
Radio Birdman,
Blancmange,
John Holt,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Bar-Kays,
Toni Rubio,
Ultra Naté,
Traffic Nightmare,
Quadrant,
Scientists,
The Gories,
Spandau Ballet,
The Selecter,
Tomorrow,
Robert Wyatt,
Steve Hackett,
Von Mondo,
Amon Düül II,
T. Rex,
Matthew Bourne,
Derrick May,
These Immortal Souls,
Ohio Players,
JFA,
Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick.
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.