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 Senegal and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 8 Eyed Spy to the rock 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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Organ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Inner City,
Organ,
The Gories,
Minor Threat,
Silicon Teens,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Hot Snakes,
Pussy Galore,
John Foxx,
Chris & Cosey,
Groovy Waters,
Outsiders,
Yaz,
Make Up,
Mission of Burma,
Lebanon Hanover,
Los Fastidios,
Swans,
Simply Red,
Tres Demented,
Tears for Fears,
The Martian,
Quando Quango,
The Kinks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Technova,
Aural Exciters,
Marcia Griffiths,
48th St. Collective,
Niagra,
Thee Headcoats,
The Seeds,
Mark Hollis,
The Fortunes,
Jeff Mills,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Arab on Radar,
Sarah Menescal,
Connie Case,
Robert Hood,
The Five Americans,
Michelle Simonal,
June Days,
Joy Division,
The Modern Lovers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Marmalade,
Iggy Pop,
John Coltrane,
Lightning Bolt,
Boogie Down Productions,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kenny Larkin,
Essential Logic,
Lakeside,
Agitation Free,
Barry Ungar,
Soft Machine,
David Bowie,
Suburban Knight,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.