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 Syria and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 808 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 Bluetip to the electroclash 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 The Invisible. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lower 48,
Kenny Larkin,
The Toasters,
The Misunderstood,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Boredoms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Zero Boys,
the Bar-Kays,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eden Ahbez,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ohio Players,
The Saints,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Motions,
The Neon Judgement,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lyres,
Brick,
Jacques Brel,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Das Ding,
The Walker Brothers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Stiv Bators,
Gong,
Sight & Sound,
Masters at Work,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Index,
Television,
Reuben Wilson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Radiohead,
Massinfluence,
ABBA,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ultravox,
Nico,
Anthony Braxton,
Althea and Donna,
Liliput,
Danielle Patucci,
The Sonics,
Fluxion,
Bobby Sherman,
Pylon,
Derrick May,
Crime,
F. McDonald,
E-Dancer,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.