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 Costa Rica and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 harpsichord 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 The United States of America to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Move. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Bobby Hutcherson,
John Foxx,
Negative Approach,
The Moleskins,
Isaac Hayes,
The Angels of Light,
Eric Dolphy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Grey Daturas,
June Days,
Severed Heads,
Ash Ra Tempel,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Pussy Galore,
The Gap Band,
Boz Scaggs,
Jandek,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Chris & Cosey,
Mad Mike,
New Age Steppers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bronski Beat,
Barry Ungar,
China Crisis,
Black Bananas,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Wire,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bill Wells,
Lower 48,
the Association,
The Dave Clark Five,
Scan 7,
Rites of Spring,
Underground Resistance,
Jesper Dahlback,
Technova,
Colin Newman,
Lindisfarne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
D'Angelo,
Whodini,
Todd Terry,
Jimmy McGriff,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Prince Buster,
Kerrie Biddell,
New York Dolls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Los Fastidios,
Ornette Coleman,
David Bowie,
The Vogues,
Big Daddy Kane,
Tropical Tobacco,
Public Enemy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Thee Headcoats,
EPMD,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.