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 Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the disco 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
The Dirtbombs,
Darondo,
Aloha Tigers,
Schoolly D,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sugar Minott,
Alison Limerick,
Maleditus Sound,
Lou Christie,
Deadbeat,
Dawn Penn,
Ituana,
the Swans,
Roger Hodgson,
Derrick Morgan,
The Dead C,
Talk Talk,
The Divine Comedy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gichy Dan,
Shuggie Otis,
Eve St. Jones,
The Wake,
Pussy Galore,
Easy Going,
Scratch Acid,
The Victims,
David McCallum,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mark Hollis,
Kurtis Blow,
The Remains,
The Monks,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Foxx,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sun Ra,
Harpers Bizarre,
Piero Umiliani,
Trumans Water,
Brass Construction,
Soulsonic Force,
The Toasters,
Alphaville,
Crooked Eye,
Tres Demented,
Alice Coltrane,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Motions,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Zeros,
Joe Smooth,
Sex Pistols,
The Durutti Column,
Robert Görl,
Glambeats Corp.,
Janne Schatter,
Nik Kershaw,
Don Cherry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.