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 Liberia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 synthesizer 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the rock 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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
The Stooges,
The Divine Comedy,
Cheater Slicks,
The Leaves,
Amon Düül,
Roxette,
Thee Headcoats,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sixth Finger,
Interpol,
Barrington Levy,
Vladislav Delay,
Boredoms,
The Black Dice,
Stockholm Monsters,
Minor Threat,
Roy Ayers,
Can,
Dorothy Ashby,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Iggy Pop,
Masters at Work,
Howard Jones,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jacob Miller,
Glenn Branca,
Bill Near,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Kinks,
Silicon Teens,
OOIOO,
Amon Düül II,
Mark Hollis,
X-Ray Spex,
Smog,
Mo-Dettes,
The Doors,
The Durutti Column,
The Last Poets,
The Victims,
F. McDonald,
Isaac Hayes,
Scratch Acid,
Skarface,
The Pretty Things,
Lou Reed,
Lucky Dragons,
PIL,
Tommy Roe,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ultimate Spinach,
Robert Hood,
John Cale,
Chris & Cosey,
Skriet,
The Zeros,
Maleditus Sound,
Albert Ayler,
Darondo,
Harry Pussy,
Dual Sessions,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.