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 New Zealand and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Beijing.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Hardrive to the jazz 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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
John Coltrane,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
A Flock of Seagulls,
EPMD,
Buzzcocks,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Derrick May,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Motorama,
the Germs,
The Trojans,
Kool Moe Dee,
a-ha,
Wire,
Freddie Wadling,
Minor Threat,
Arab on Radar,
Scrapy,
Das Ding,
The Smiths,
Pulsallama,
Bauhaus,
Country Teasers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Yazoo,
Darondo,
Brothers Johnson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Skriet,
Tears for Fears,
David Bowie,
Anthony Braxton,
Hoover,
U.S. Maple,
Dennis Brown,
Bush Tetras,
Negative Approach,
One Last Wish,
Bob Dylan,
F. McDonald,
Neu!,
The Music Machine,
Slave,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Blackbyrds,
June Days,
ABC,
Inner City,
Brass Construction,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fluxion,
Davy DMX,
Youth Brigade,
The Sound,
Sällskapet,
Sight & Sound,
Mandrill,
B.T. Express,
Gang Green,
Hot Snakes,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.