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 Jordan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Modern Lovers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agitation Free 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
E-Dancer,
Minny Pops,
Quadrant,
Livin' Joy,
Albert Ayler,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Sherman,
Magma,
The J.B.'s,
Kerrie Biddell,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lee Hazlewood,
Man Eating Sloth,
Trumans Water,
Aaron Thompson,
Public Enemy,
June Days,
Barry Ungar,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ronan,
Oneida,
Maleditus Sound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Zero Boys,
The Last Poets,
The Doobie Brothers,
Hasil Adkins,
Sun Ra,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Association,
Nils Olav,
The Misunderstood,
Todd Rundgren,
Cameo,
Scrapy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Dirtbombs,
Tears for Fears,
Joensuu 1685,
Jawbox,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bob Dylan,
Mantronix,
The Raincoats,
Soulsonic Force,
Quantec,
Ituana,
Silicon Teens,
Au Pairs,
Mission of Burma,
Cluster,
Suicide,
Nico,
The Invisible,
One Last Wish,
The Leaves,
Avey Tare,
Black Pus,
Tommy Roe,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.