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 Hong Kong.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Q65 to the techno 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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The Sound,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Black Moon,
The Pretty Things,
Radiohead,
Trumans Water,
Blancmange,
Unrelated Segments,
Amazonics,
Gerry Rafferty,
Altered Images,
Nils Olav,
Funkadelic,
Brick,
Basic Channel,
Peter and Kerry,
The Velvet Underground,
Tubeway Army,
David Bowie,
the Swans,
Mark Hollis,
Silicon Teens,
The Grass Roots,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Don Cherry,
In Retrospect,
Harry Pussy,
Roger Hodgson,
The Cowsills,
Faust,
Marvin Gaye,
The Fuzztones,
The Young Rascals,
Lyres,
Danielle Patucci,
Japan,
Khruangbin,
Joe Smooth,
Darondo,
Can,
X-Ray Spex,
Mr. Review,
Qualms,
8 Eyed Spy,
Electric Prunes,
Boz Scaggs,
Simply Red,
E-Dancer,
Underground Resistance,
Prince Buster,
The Saints,
The Trojans,
The Birthday Party,
Eve St. Jones,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kurtis Blow,
Maurizio,
Grey Daturas,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.