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 Iraq and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 linndrum 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 Bobby Sherman to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
The Knickerbockers,
Jandek,
Boredoms,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Rod Modell,
Television,
Urselle,
Bootsy Collins,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Simply Red,
Kool Moe Dee,
Neu!,
China Crisis,
FM Einheit,
Fluxion,
Heaven 17,
New York Dolls,
Ponytail,
Liliput,
Roxette,
Suburban Knight,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Toasters,
Saccharine Trust,
Matthew Bourne,
Barry Ungar,
Porter Ricks,
Rotary Connection,
Scan 7,
Spandau Ballet,
Pole,
Sex Pistols,
Gabor Szabo,
Shoche,
Althea and Donna,
Young Marble Giants,
AZ,
Charles Mingus,
Lou Reed,
Easy Going,
The Doors,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fugazi,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marmalade,
The Young Rascals,
Colin Newman,
Pierre Henry,
Whodini,
Glenn Branca,
Marcia Griffiths,
Godley & Creme,
Joyce Sims,
The Walker Brothers,
Matthew Halsall,
Fat Boys,
Donny Hathaway,
Pulsallama,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.