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 Greece and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 Madrid and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes 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 The Knickerbockers to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eve St. Jones,
Groovy Waters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Royal Trux,
Suburban Knight,
Wolf Eyes,
Magazine,
Japan,
Pussy Galore,
Cecil Taylor,
Nik Kershaw,
Jeru the Damaja,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sun City Girls,
L. Decosne,
kango's stein massive,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Metal Thangz,
Mandrill,
Colin Newman,
The Golliwogs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Theoretical Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Blues Magoos,
Soulsonic Force,
Neil Young,
Gang Starr,
Quadrant,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cameo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Inner City,
The Selecter,
The Dirtbombs,
Jerry's Kids,
Flipper,
Marshall Jefferson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Beau Brummels,
Oneida,
Unwound,
Underground Resistance,
Brick,
Bobby Sherman,
Television Personalities,
Eric Copeland,
Cal Tjader,
The Cramps,
Motorama,
H. Thieme,
the Swans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.