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 Mali and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Vladislav Delay to the funk 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 Ronan. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Skatalites 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
Mo-Dettes,
Fugazi,
Pagans,
Donny Hathaway,
kango's stein massive,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Unrelated Segments,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Al Stewart,
Sugar Minott,
The Gun Club,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Skaos,
Black Sheep,
Pantaleimon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lalo Schifrin,
Quadrant,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pantytec,
The Sound,
Organ,
The Cosmic Jokers,
New York Dolls,
The Fortunes,
Surgeon,
Outsiders,
Neil Young,
Harry Pussy,
Dead Boys,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Buckinghams,
La Düsseldorf,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Aswad,
Blake Baxter,
The Mojo Men,
A Certain Ratio,
Visage,
Pulsallama,
Tommy Roe,
Whodini,
Mantronix,
Skarface,
The Five Americans,
Roxy Music,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rites of Spring,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Barry Ungar,
Donald Byrd,
This Heat,
Metal Thangz,
Goldenarms,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mummies,
Hashim,
The Stooges,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.