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 Venezuela and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Mad Mike to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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 Move,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Henry Cow,
Marshall Jefferson,
David Bowie,
Sugar Minott,
Avey Tare,
Jawbox,
The Count Five,
Chris & Cosey,
Scott Walker,
Au Pairs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Harmonia,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobby Sherman,
The Blues Magoos,
Lightning Bolt,
The Velvet Underground,
Nick Fraelich,
Royal Trux,
Marine Girls,
The Fall,
Alice Coltrane,
Ultravox,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lungfish,
Johnny Osbourne,
X-101,
Cybotron,
The Busters,
Rod Modell,
Danielle Patucci,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Davy DMX,
Leonard Cohen,
Derrick May,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sun Ra,
Sex Pistols,
James White and The Blacks,
Gichy Dan,
Todd Rundgren,
Wolf Eyes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Aural Exciters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Moebius,
Crime,
The Mummies,
8 Eyed Spy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Amazonics,
Reuben Wilson,
Silicon Teens,
The Gap Band,
48th St. Collective,
John Lydon,
Pantaleimon,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.