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 Equatorial Guinea and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Standells 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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tim Buckley,
Iggy Pop,
Minnie Riperton,
Pussy Galore,
Neu!,
John Holt,
Nick Fraelich,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Das Ding,
Black Pus,
Hashim,
The Fire Engines,
Rites of Spring,
Chris & Cosey,
Eric B and Rakim,
Animal Collective,
Moby Grape,
Swans,
Steve Hackett,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sun City Girls,
Laurel Aitken,
the Bar-Kays,
Cheater Slicks,
Zero Boys,
Can,
Eric Copeland,
Aaron Thompson,
the Swans,
Soulsonic Force,
The Mojo Men,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cymande,
The Slackers,
The Litter,
Banda Bassotti,
Buzzcocks,
The Grass Roots,
Eli Mardock,
Nico,
ABC,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roger Hodgson,
Fear,
The Cure,
The Move,
Alison Limerick,
Albert Ayler,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Roy Ayers,
The Dirtbombs,
Bluetip,
Goldenarms,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Arthur Verocai,
Liliput,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.