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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Television to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
Crispian St. Peters,
Organ,
The Stooges,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Arab on Radar,
Franke,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Oblivians,
Goldenarms,
Los Fastidios,
The Cowsills,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Smoke,
Roxy Music,
The Litter,
The Standells,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Altered Images,
The Blues Magoos,
Aloha Tigers,
DJ Style,
Second Layer,
Anthony Braxton,
Sex Pistols,
Japan,
Pagans,
Agitation Free,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sister Nancy,
Amon Düül,
Alton Ellis,
Ituana,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Minor Threat,
Quadrant,
Soft Cell,
These Immortal Souls,
Kenny Larkin,
Gong,
Black Flag,
The Knickerbockers,
Gang Starr,
Iggy Pop,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mary Jane Girls,
Suburban Knight,
Fat Boys,
Barbara Tucker,
James White and The Blacks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kerri Chandler,
Bauhaus,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Icehouse,
Von Mondo,
Rosa Yemen,
Nirvana,
Mars,
Prince Buster,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.