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 Sudan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the grunge 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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Henry Cow,
Wolf Eyes,
Ralphi Rosario,
MDC,
Black Sheep,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Faraquet,
Neu!,
Bad Manners,
Kas Product,
Agent Orange,
Motorama,
Barbara Tucker,
Audionom,
Joy Division,
DJ Sneak,
Brothers Johnson,
La Düsseldorf,
The Dead C,
Y Pants,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Godley & Creme,
Byron Stingily,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
Charles Mingus,
Desert Stars,
Wings,
The Wake,
Country Joe & The Fish,
China Crisis,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bootsy Collins,
Buzzcocks,
Procol Harum,
Drexciya,
Dorothy Ashby,
Royal Trux,
Lalo Schifrin,
Banda Bassotti,
David Axelrod,
Arab on Radar,
Yellowson,
Derrick May,
Gang Starr,
Supertramp,
Lindisfarne,
The Selecter,
Suicide,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Qualms,
Ituana,
The Monks,
The Raincoats,
Bill Near,
JFA,
Alphaville,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Angels of Light,
Chris & Cosey,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.