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 Lebanon and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Funky Four + One,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Invisible,
Blossom Toes,
The Velvet Underground,
PIL,
Chris Corsano,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Stooges,
The Real Kids,
Black Pus,
Lower 48,
Boredoms,
Ossler,
Agitation Free,
Talk Talk,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The J.B.'s,
Hoover,
Duran Duran,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kerri Chandler,
Silicon Teens,
The Happenings,
The Dave Clark Five,
Byron Stingily,
Sound Behaviour,
Liliput,
Mars,
Magma,
Howard Jones,
Flash Fearless,
Icehouse,
Trumans Water,
Massinfluence,
Shuggie Otis,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Stockholm Monsters,
Wasted Youth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Skriet,
Ice-T,
John Holt,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Make Up,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mad Mike,
Soft Machine,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Pretty Things,
The Blues Magoos,
Moby Grape,
Darondo,
Henry Cow,
Young Marble Giants,
Idris Muhammad,
Skaos,
Monks,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.