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 Kosovo and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 American Breed to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
LL Cool J,
Roxy Music,
The Count Five,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Cowsills,
Yaz,
Moebius,
Lower 48,
Oblivians,
Eve St. Jones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pulsallama,
the Normal,
Grauzone,
Marine Girls,
The Fortunes,
R.M.O.,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Vogues,
This Heat,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lindisfarne,
Swell Maps,
The Knickerbockers,
Black Bananas,
Country Teasers,
Quadrant,
Maleditus Sound,
Mantronix,
Bluetip,
Joe Finger,
Marcia Griffiths,
Organ,
the Germs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fat Boys,
Kerri Chandler,
Wally Richardson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Throbbing Gristle,
The United States of America,
Bootsy Collins,
Young Marble Giants,
The New Christs,
Fad Gadget,
Cecil Taylor,
Circle Jerks,
Siglo XX,
Tropical Tobacco,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Duran Duran,
Warren Ellis,
Con Funk Shun,
Alton Ellis,
ABC,
Ossler,
Stereo Dub,
Grandmaster Flash,
Echospace,
Das Ding,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.