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 Mongolia and from Spokane.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Eddi Front to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Robert Hood,
Monks,
The Modern Lovers,
Scan 7,
Thompson Twins,
The Neon Judgement,
Boz Scaggs,
Guru Guru,
Nils Olav,
Chris & Cosey,
Newcleus,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scott Walker,
Amon Düül II,
Jacques Brel,
Cecil Taylor,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gastr Del Sol,
Crooked Eye,
Fat Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Grey Daturas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Knickerbockers,
Zero Boys,
Moebius,
Electric Prunes,
Little Man,
Parry Music,
Excepter,
Gabor Szabo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
D'Angelo,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ituana,
Symarip,
John Holt,
Echospace,
Amon Düül,
One Last Wish,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Toni Rubio,
The Black Dice,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Names,
Suicide,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Quando Quango,
CMW,
Freddie Wadling,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Smog,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bill Near,
Kerrie Biddell,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cowsills,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
cv313,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.