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 Norway and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Captain Beefheart 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 kango's stein massive to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
The Smiths,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
K-Klass,
Dark Day,
Parry Music,
Danielle Patucci,
Mr. Review,
DJ Sneak,
The Gap Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Saccharine Trust,
Bang On A Can,
Joyce Sims,
Pierre Henry,
Surgeon,
Pulsallama,
The Golliwogs,
Spoonie Gee,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Visage,
Pere Ubu,
The Names,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gang of Four,
Malaria!,
Lower 48,
Interpol,
JFA,
The Move,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Niagra,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fear,
Spandau Ballet,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Monks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sight & Sound,
Theoretical Girls,
Scion,
UT,
Marc Almond,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Birthday Party,
Pantaleimon,
T.S.O.L.,
Nas,
Y Pants,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Skriet,
Laurel Aitken,
Amazonics,
Michelle Simonal,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Graham Central Station,
the Normal,
Young Marble Giants,
Motorama,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.