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 Montenegro and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 spring reverb 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 Sexual Harrassment to the disco 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
The New Christs,
Glenn Branca,
Vainqueur,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Black Moon,
Avey Tare,
Dorothy Ashby,
EPMD,
The Mojo Men,
Reagan Youth,
Jimmy McGriff,
Surgeon,
Das Ding,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Rosa Yemen,
Vladislav Delay,
Joyce Sims,
Rites of Spring,
Darondo,
Marc Almond,
The Beau Brummels,
Pet Shop Boys,
Average White Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Deepchord,
The Neon Judgement,
Andrew Hill,
David McCallum,
Basic Channel,
Scratch Acid,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
the Swans,
Brick,
Roxy Music,
The Cramps,
A Certain Ratio,
The Smoke,
Dennis Brown,
Stiv Bators,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fad Gadget,
Skriet,
The Remains,
Nico,
Jawbox,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Agitation Free,
Heaven 17,
Lalann,
Camberwell Now,
The Modern Lovers,
Yellowson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Grey Daturas,
Niagra,
Blossom Toes,
Rekid,
The Index,
Youth Brigade,
48th St. Collective,
The Moody Blues,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.