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 Sweden and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba 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 Gong to the grime 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Sarah Menescal,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Nation of Ulysses,
Crispian St. Peters,
Grauzone,
The Happenings,
Pulsallama,
Throbbing Gristle,
Darondo,
Pole,
Goldenarms,
Dave Gahan,
Avey Tare,
Mark Hollis,
Cal Tjader,
The Mummies,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Urselle,
Johnny Clarke,
Crooked Eye,
The Remains,
Marc Almond,
Funky Four + One,
Girls At Our Best!,
Visage,
Organ,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Japan,
John Foxx,
Gang Green,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
F. McDonald,
Stetsasonic,
10cc,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Buckinghams,
the Normal,
Scan 7,
Wire,
Black Pus,
New York Dolls,
Black Flag,
The Mojo Men,
Bronski Beat,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Sonics,
Tim Buckley,
The Leaves,
Dead Boys,
MC5,
Soul II Soul,
Interpol,
In Retrospect,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Agent Orange,
Barbara Tucker,
Chris Corsano,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Morten Harket,
David Bowie,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.