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 Brunei and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Heaven 17 to the grime 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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
F. McDonald,
UT,
The Remains,
Marine Girls,
The Neon Judgement,
The Blues Magoos,
Scrapy,
Silicon Teens,
Nas,
Pharoah Sanders,
Radiopuhelimet,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mars,
Delon & Dalcan,
Y Pants,
Sound Behaviour,
The Slackers,
Massinfluence,
Guru Guru,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Count Five,
Archie Shepp,
John Lydon,
Young Marble Giants,
Tears for Fears,
The Five Americans,
Girls At Our Best!,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Index,
The Music Machine,
Mark Hollis,
The Evens,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
LL Cool J,
The Young Rascals,
Newcleus,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Loose Ends,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Michelle Simonal,
Rites of Spring,
Lightning Bolt,
The Last Poets,
Juan Atkins,
Goldenarms,
Half Japanese,
Matthew Halsall,
Fluxion,
X-Ray Spex,
Circle Jerks,
Magazine,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Star Department,
Pussy Galore,
Gang Starr,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Quando Quango,
Derrick May,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.