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 Tonga and from Calgary.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Walker Brothers to the crunk 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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
The Birthday Party,
Television,
Suicide,
The Black Dice,
Slave,
Marshall Jefferson,
New York Dolls,
Johnny Osbourne,
Youth Brigade,
Gerry Rafferty,
Urselle,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
E-Dancer,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marmalade,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crispian St. Peters,
Country Teasers,
Dual Sessions,
kango's stein massive,
Quando Quango,
The Fall,
Derrick May,
H. Thieme,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Associates,
Crime,
Gil Scott Heron,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Smiths,
The Saints,
The United States of America,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Excepter,
Suburban Knight,
Zero Boys,
Bobby Sherman,
Intrusion,
The Detroit Cobras,
Von Mondo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
This Heat,
Albert Ayler,
U.S. Maple,
Boz Scaggs,
Mission of Burma,
June of 44,
Peter & Gordon,
Drexciya,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Howard Jones,
The Skatalites,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Knickerbockers,
Eve St. Jones,
The J.B.'s,
The Misunderstood,
Tim Buckley,
Archie Shepp,
Faust,
David McCallum,
Rekid,
Black Sheep,
Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free.
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.