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 Somalia and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 U.S. Maple to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Darondo,
Fat Boys,
Connie Case,
Jawbox,
Whodini,
Groovy Waters,
Basic Channel,
Delta 5,
Eric Copeland,
Hardrive,
Yazoo,
Mo-Dettes,
Brick,
Joe Smooth,
Sight & Sound,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Funky Four + One,
Chrome,
Brass Construction,
The Litter,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dawn Penn,
Soulsonic Force,
Bobby Womack,
Freddie Wadling,
Eric B and Rakim,
Albert Ayler,
Amazonics,
Dave Gahan,
Drexciya,
the Association,
The Dead C,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Swell Maps,
Mark Hollis,
Au Pairs,
The Sonics,
Sparks,
Ultra Naté,
Piero Umiliani,
Rekid,
Gregory Isaacs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Saccharine Trust,
Supertramp,
Kerri Chandler,
The Seeds,
The Skatalites,
X-102,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Hood,
The Alarm Clocks,
Skriet,
Q65,
Eurythmics,
Aaron Thompson,
ABBA,
Reuben Wilson,
PIL,
Yaz,
Bill Near,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.