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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Fall to the punk 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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drive Like Jehu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
The Smoke,
Crispian St. Peters,
Masters at Work,
Pussy Galore,
Carl Craig,
Cheater Slicks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nico,
Sonny Sharrock,
K-Klass,
The Angels of Light,
Ralphi Rosario,
Brand Nubian,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Pop Group,
Sixth Finger,
Hardrive,
Dave Gahan,
Nick Fraelich,
L. Decosne,
The Moody Blues,
The Litter,
Bauhaus,
H. Thieme,
The Blackbyrds,
The Names,
Morten Harket,
Shuggie Otis,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pulsallama,
Crispy Ambulance,
Unwound,
The Red Krayola,
The Doors,
Roxy Music,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
New York Dolls,
Isaac Hayes,
Pylon,
Stiv Bators,
Procol Harum,
Royal Trux,
Agent Orange,
Au Pairs,
Mr. Review,
Marc Almond,
Barbara Tucker,
Index,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nils Olav,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Suicide,
Malaria!,
The Dead C,
Circle Jerks,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
U.S. Maple,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.