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 Switzerland and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the rock 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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Popol Vuh,
Talk Talk,
Cecil Taylor,
The Human League,
Dead Boys,
The Durutti Column,
Hashim,
Suburban Knight,
Bootsy Collins,
Gang of Four,
Siglo XX,
Gil Scott Heron,
Flamin' Groovies,
Can,
One Last Wish,
the Swans,
Bauhaus,
DJ Sneak,
Stereo Dub,
Section 25,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Amazonics,
Schoolly D,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Motions,
Scrapy,
Ultravox,
The Fire Engines,
The Flesh Eaters,
Underground Resistance,
48th St. Collective,
Gastr Del Sol,
Morten Harket,
Black Flag,
Eddi Front,
Davy DMX,
Wally Richardson,
Roxette,
Y Pants,
Minnie Riperton,
Marvin Gaye,
Moebius,
Excepter,
R.M.O.,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Wake,
Buzzcocks,
Freddie Wadling,
Rakim,
cv313,
Parry Music,
Terry Callier,
Soft Cell,
10cc,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Brothers Johnson,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.