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 Grenada and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 The Dave Clark Five to the crunk 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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
The Music Machine,
Wire,
The Gories,
Wings,
Morten Harket,
The New Christs,
Symarip,
Infiniti,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Groovy Waters,
The Cure,
Joyce Sims,
Unwound,
Bobby Womack,
Severed Heads,
Nico,
Stereo Dub,
Terry Callier,
The Last Poets,
Sex Pistols,
Fluxion,
Bang On A Can,
Andrew Hill,
The Monks,
Kayak,
Ultimate Spinach,
Buzzcocks,
Whodini,
Theoretical Girls,
The Offenders,
Underground Resistance,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harmonia,
The Tremeloes,
LL Cool J,
Scratch Acid,
The Move,
The Fire Engines,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
John Foxx,
The Knickerbockers,
Henry Cow,
James White and The Blacks,
Ice-T,
10cc,
The United States of America,
Talk Talk,
The Velvet Underground,
The Golliwogs,
Gregory Isaacs,
H. Thieme,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Görl,
Reuben Wilson,
Faraquet,
the Normal,
Mary Jane Girls,
Echospace,
Piero Umiliani,
Simply Red,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.