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 Thailand and from Shanghai.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Anthony Braxton to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Aloha Tigers,
The Skatalites,
The Modern Lovers,
Lakeside,
Black Pus,
Adolescents,
Monks,
Deadbeat,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Junior Murvin,
Joyce Sims,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Pretty Things,
Oblivians,
Roxy Music,
Sandy B,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ken Boothe,
Sound Behaviour,
Pantytec,
Royal Trux,
Model 500,
The Index,
New York Dolls,
The Black Dice,
Metal Thangz,
the Germs,
Michelle Simonal,
Marshall Jefferson,
Das Ding,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Kinks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Quantec,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Television,
The Gun Club,
Camberwell Now,
Charles Mingus,
Gregory Isaacs,
Flash Fearless,
Joensuu 1685,
Q65,
Marc Almond,
These Immortal Souls,
This Heat,
Minor Threat,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gichy Dan,
Sun City Girls,
John Holt,
Mary Jane Girls,
Deepchord,
The Pop Group,
David McCallum,
Cameo,
Josef K,
Rapeman,
ABBA,
The Selecter,
Arab on Radar,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.