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 Barbados and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the electroclash 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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Rhythm & Sound,
B.T. Express,
the Bar-Kays,
Model 500,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Skriet,
Grey Daturas,
Fat Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Cameo,
Jeff Lynne,
Schoolly D,
Bill Wells,
La Düsseldorf,
AZ,
Jeru the Damaja,
Judy Mowatt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Underground Resistance,
Popol Vuh,
The Shadows of Knight,
Mo-Dettes,
Fluxion,
Lebanon Hanover,
Crispy Ambulance,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Porter Ricks,
Accadde A,
Marc Almond,
Graham Central Station,
Con Funk Shun,
Barry Ungar,
The Alarm Clocks,
Soul II Soul,
cv313,
Black Moon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Royal Trux,
The Real Kids,
Arcadia,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Television,
Dennis Brown,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dawn Penn,
The Dave Clark Five,
Swans,
Sex Pistols,
Reuben Wilson,
The Vogues,
Magazine,
New Order,
The Slackers,
The Fire Engines,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Crime,
Mad Mike,
Bootsy Collins,
Sister Nancy,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.