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 Seoul.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Remains to the funk 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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Cowsills,
Throbbing Gristle,
Janne Schatter,
Mantronix,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Niagra,
Black Sheep,
Electric Prunes,
Subhumans,
Radio Birdman,
The Red Krayola,
Metal Thangz,
Danielle Patucci,
Kas Product,
Funky Four + One,
Lakeside,
Michelle Simonal,
Johnny Osbourne,
Roxette,
The Flesh Eaters,
EPMD,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eddi Front,
D'Angelo,
DNA,
Infiniti,
The Wake,
Chris & Cosey,
Quadrant,
ABBA,
The Slits,
the Swans,
Sugar Minott,
Neu!,
Symarip,
John Holt,
Johnny Clarke,
The Shadows of Knight,
Don Cherry,
Angry Samoans,
Flipper,
The Real Kids,
Con Funk Shun,
The Golliwogs,
Peter & Gordon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Supertramp,
B.T. Express,
Spandau Ballet,
The Velvet Underground,
Cluster,
Popol Vuh,
48th St. Collective,
Stiv Bators,
James White and The Blacks,
Chris Corsano,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.