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 Panama and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Milan and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Intrusion to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
June of 44,
Black Moon,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Electric Prunes,
Henry Cow,
Pussy Galore,
Flamin' Groovies,
Quando Quango,
Stereo Dub,
Pylon,
Dave Gahan,
Animal Collective,
John Lydon,
Porter Ricks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Connie Case,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Hot Snakes,
Surgeon,
Ronan,
Icehouse,
Minny Pops,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Delta 5,
The Dead C,
Oneida,
Sixth Finger,
48th St. Collective,
The Remains,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Carl Craig,
Colin Newman,
Erykah Badu,
Soft Machine,
A Certain Ratio,
Amazonics,
Groovy Waters,
the Association,
DJ Style,
Freddie Wadling,
the Sonics,
The Raincoats,
Juan Atkins,
The Fuzztones,
Boz Scaggs,
Eve St. Jones,
Nirvana,
ABBA,
Dawn Penn,
The Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy,
The Invisible,
Johnny Clarke,
Livin' Joy,
Kas Product,
Neil Young,
The Leaves,
Dead Boys,
Ossler,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.