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 Israel and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Houston.
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 synthesizer 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the rap 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 Gichy Dan. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Quantec,
Man Parrish,
The Slackers,
Mantronix,
Fat Boys,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bad Manners,
Absolute Body Control,
X-101,
Radio Birdman,
Oblivians,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Raincoats,
Boredoms,
The Zeros,
Simply Red,
Theoretical Girls,
Roger Hodgson,
Accadde A,
Sarah Menescal,
The Busters,
Leonard Cohen,
Bush Tetras,
The Stooges,
Basic Channel,
Matthew Halsall,
kango's stein massive,
Avey Tare,
Subhumans,
Suburban Knight,
Newcleus,
Cheater Slicks,
KRS-One,
Audionom,
The Kinks,
Bob Dylan,
Surgeon,
Eden Ahbez,
The Dirtbombs,
Young Marble Giants,
China Crisis,
Procol Harum,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bluetip,
Robert Wyatt,
Brick,
Scott Walker,
Icehouse,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Hashim,
Kool Moe Dee,
Al Stewart,
Marc Almond,
Archie Shepp,
Y Pants,
Bill Wells,
Lou Christie,
Nas,
Gang of Four,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.