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 Guinea and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Wasted Youth to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
John Cale,
the Human League,
Lalo Schifrin,
PIL,
The Evens,
Eric Copeland,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Clear Light,
Wally Richardson,
Pussy Galore,
Morten Harket,
Godley & Creme,
Soft Machine,
Fad Gadget,
The Wake,
Chrome,
The Cowsills,
Marcia Griffiths,
Iggy Pop,
The Vogues,
Glambeats Corp.,
New York Dolls,
Joensuu 1685,
Altered Images,
Mr. Review,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Tremeloes,
Lucky Dragons,
Robert Hood,
the Association,
The Sonics,
Ultra Naté,
Los Fastidios,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Angry Samoans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nik Kershaw,
Carl Craig,
The Fuzztones,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Pretty Things,
Kevin Saunderson,
Talk Talk,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Sheep,
The Durutti Column,
The Red Krayola,
Warren Ellis,
World's Most,
Boredoms,
Neil Young,
Fluxion,
One Last Wish,
Pierre Henry,
The Zeros,
Nick Fraelich,
Easy Going,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Monks,
Organ,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.