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 Solomon Islands and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Grauzone to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Negative Approach,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Theoretical Girls,
In Retrospect,
Public Image Ltd.,
Man Parrish,
Rakim,
Suicide,
Tim Buckley,
A Certain Ratio,
Albert Ayler,
Nils Olav,
Ken Boothe,
Dawn Penn,
E-Dancer,
The Litter,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Moody Blues,
10cc,
Joe Finger,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Echospace,
Audionom,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Searchers,
The Gories,
The Young Rascals,
Buzzcocks,
The Human League,
The Pop Group,
Fela Kuti,
Quadrant,
Amazonics,
Kayak,
The Moleskins,
The Cowsills,
Chrome,
Ronnie Foster,
The Black Dice,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mantronix,
Fluxion,
Gichy Dan,
the Sonics,
L. Decosne,
DNA,
Dave Gahan,
The Names,
Black Moon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Cheater Slicks,
Chris Corsano,
Ornette Coleman,
Anthony Braxton,
The United States of America,
Youth Brigade,
The Walker Brothers,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.