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 the UAE and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 T. Rex to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
The Grass Roots,
Von Mondo,
The Angels of Light,
E-Dancer,
Mad Mike,
Heaven 17,
DJ Style,
Jacques Brel,
Gregory Isaacs,
Minutemen,
Lucky Dragons,
Camberwell Now,
Kerri Chandler,
Malaria!,
The Black Dice,
Black Bananas,
John Lydon,
Albert Ayler,
The Beau Brummels,
Oblivians,
Dorothy Ashby,
Yusef Lateef,
Pussy Galore,
Brass Construction,
Silicon Teens,
Los Fastidios,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sonic Youth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cymande,
Joey Negro,
The Motions,
The Invisible,
Dual Sessions,
Saccharine Trust,
The Seeds,
The Golliwogs,
Laurel Aitken,
MDC,
Gastr Del Sol,
Blancmange,
David Bowie,
Junior Murvin,
The American Breed,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pere Ubu,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
Black Flag,
Archie Shepp,
Kas Product,
Kevin Saunderson,
John Foxx,
Radio Birdman,
Josef K,
Lebanon Hanover,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cowsills,
the Germs,
Monks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.