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 Philippines and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Warren Ellis to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Monolake,
Skaos,
Barclay James Harvest,
Vainqueur,
Bobby Byrd,
Connie Case,
Bill Wells,
Symarip,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sight & Sound,
The Birthday Party,
Los Fastidios,
The Neon Judgement,
10cc,
Curtis Mayfield,
Das Ding,
DNA,
Gang of Four,
Fear,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Funky Four + One,
Swans,
Gang Starr,
Surgeon,
Whodini,
Pulsallama,
Bootsy Collins,
FM Einheit,
Eden Ahbez,
Warsaw,
Letta Mbulu,
R.M.O.,
Desert Stars,
a-ha,
Isaac Hayes,
Scrapy,
Scratch Acid,
Underground Resistance,
U.S. Maple,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Divine Comedy,
Sex Pistols,
Brass Construction,
Mission of Burma,
Procol Harum,
Lucky Dragons,
Jacques Brel,
Todd Rundgren,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Metal Thangz,
Oblivians,
Joy Division,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Talk Talk,
Electric Prunes,
The Moody Blues,
Boredoms,
Moss Icon,
Rakim,
Mary Jane Girls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic 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.