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 Cambodia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Barry Ungar to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Scott Walker,
Harry Pussy,
Monks,
Loose Ends,
The Raincoats,
Stereo Dub,
Monolake,
Outsiders,
Bill Near,
New York Dolls,
The Offenders,
The J.B.'s,
Fear,
Eddi Front,
Archie Shepp,
Essential Logic,
The Leaves,
Moebius,
Kaleidoscope,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tomorrow,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Letta Mbulu,
The Associates,
Henry Cow,
Zero Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
Darondo,
Bobby Womack,
Peter & Gordon,
Shoche,
Connie Case,
PIL,
Q and Not U,
Inner City,
48th St. Collective,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Angels of Light,
The Evens,
Delta 5,
The Dirtbombs,
The Techniques,
Bad Manners,
Harmonia,
Arab on Radar,
The Sonics,
Country Teasers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Babytalk,
Ultimate Spinach,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Association,
Sonic Youth,
Easy Going,
X-Ray Spex,
The Residents,
Jimmy McGriff,
Little Man,
Model 500,
Jerry's Kids,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Morten Harket,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.