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 Slovakia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Little Man to the crunk 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quadrant 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Bill Near,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Maurizio,
DNA,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Blake Baxter,
Jesper Dahlback,
Spoonie Gee,
The Fall,
Unrelated Segments,
L. Decosne,
John Coltrane,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Tremeloes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sällskapet,
8 Eyed Spy,
Newcleus,
Faraquet,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jeff Lynne,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fear,
Iggy Pop,
Young Marble Giants,
The Wake,
Donald Byrd,
Echospace,
Blossom Toes,
Motorama,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cymande,
X-Ray Spex,
Magazine,
Desert Stars,
Pharoah Sanders,
Deakin,
PIL,
Deadbeat,
the Swans,
Wire,
Grey Daturas,
Lou Reed,
Mary Jane Girls,
Qualms,
Supertramp,
Scratch Acid,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Hashim,
Royal Trux,
Black Sheep,
Sparks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hoover,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roger Hodgson,
Excepter,
Bizarre Inc.,
Vainqueur,
Bronski Beat,
Pere Ubu,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.