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 Armenia and from Taipei.
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 Copenhagen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Thee Headcoats to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Gang Starr,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gabor Szabo,
Rakim,
Kurtis Blow,
Agitation Free,
The Fall,
Aaron Thompson,
Jacques Brel,
Toni Rubio,
The Monks,
Archie Shepp,
The Slackers,
Pagans,
Nick Fraelich,
Bobby Sherman,
The Remains,
Spoonie Gee,
Procol Harum,
Black Moon,
Faust,
Minor Threat,
Sarah Menescal,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Guru Guru,
Groovy Waters,
The Misunderstood,
James White and The Blacks,
The Music Machine,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Young Rascals,
World's Most,
Soft Machine,
DNA,
The Real Kids,
The Black Dice,
Sound Behaviour,
the Slits,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Amon Düül II,
Alison Limerick,
New Order,
E-Dancer,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stereo Dub,
The Moody Blues,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Royal Trux,
Funkadelic,
the Sonics,
Fat Boys,
Stockholm Monsters,
ABBA,
Todd Terry,
Fear,
Roxette,
Oblivians,
Tropical Tobacco,
Y Pants,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.