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 Niger and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ossler to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Black Sheep,
Nico,
Slave,
Sam Rivers,
Ice-T,
The Gladiators,
The Golliwogs,
The Dead C,
The Star Department,
Rites of Spring,
The Angels of Light,
Jeff Lynne,
Von Mondo,
R.M.O.,
MC5,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pole,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The American Breed,
Pussy Galore,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Soulsonic Force,
Traffic Nightmare,
Soft Cell,
The Raincoats,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Young Marble Giants,
The Slits,
Eric B and Rakim,
Make Up,
Cecil Taylor,
Massinfluence,
Infiniti,
Hot Snakes,
The Slackers,
The Monks,
Zero Boys,
Don Cherry,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sun City Girls,
Newcleus,
Khruangbin,
Rosa Yemen,
Max Romeo,
Average White Band,
David McCallum,
Reagan Youth,
Tubeway Army,
Agitation Free,
Rotary Connection,
The Monochrome Set,
Josef K,
Rufus Thomas,
Gichy Dan,
Aloha Tigers,
Talk Talk,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grandmaster Flash,
The United States of America,
Severed Heads,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.