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 Turkmenistan and from Spokane.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Althea and Donna to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Suburban Knight,
Ultravox,
Monolake,
The Standells,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bill Near,
Agent Orange,
Mars,
Lungfish,
The American Breed,
Technova,
Swans,
Funky Four + One,
Terry Callier,
Robert Hood,
Sugar Minott,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Judy Mowatt,
Jandek,
K-Klass,
Bizarre Inc.,
Amon Düül,
Mission of Burma,
Nico,
Barry Ungar,
The Slackers,
UT,
Graham Central Station,
Guru Guru,
John Cale,
Anakelly,
The Doors,
New Age Steppers,
Lou Reed,
Saccharine Trust,
Blossom Toes,
June Days,
Parry Music,
Radio Birdman,
Liliput,
the Swans,
La Düsseldorf,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Aloha Tigers,
Archie Shepp,
Q65,
Gerry Rafferty,
Procol Harum,
Peter and Kerry,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
David Bowie,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pagans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Excepter,
Shuggie Otis,
Soft Cell,
Talk Talk,
Lyres,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.