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 Turkmenistan and from Spokane.
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 Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 New Order to the electroclash 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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
The Wake,
Delta 5,
Qualms,
Blancmange,
Brand Nubian,
Arab on Radar,
Ronan,
Ten City,
Warren Ellis,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sun Ra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Red Krayola,
Tommy Roe,
Japan,
Mark Hollis,
Pole,
The Divine Comedy,
Nas,
Girls At Our Best!,
Khruangbin,
Young Marble Giants,
Y Pants,
Section 25,
Pagans,
The Music Machine,
Brick,
Tom Boy,
Quando Quango,
Tim Buckley,
The Beau Brummels,
Essential Logic,
Subhumans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Josef K,
the Slits,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Marvin Gaye,
the Swans,
Excepter,
Alice Coltrane,
Crispian St. Peters,
Aloha Tigers,
Iggy Pop,
Bill Near,
Jeru the Damaja,
Erasure,
Fat Boys,
The Invisible,
Livin' Joy,
Shoche,
Grauzone,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fad Gadget,
Intrusion,
The Cramps,
DNA,
Soul II Soul,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.