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 Switzerland and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Janne Schatter to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Detroit Cobras,
48th St. Collective,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Magma,
Ultra Naté,
The Vogues,
Rotary Connection,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Roxette,
Eden Ahbez,
Sex Pistols,
Moss Icon,
Quantec,
The Pretty Things,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Selecter,
John Foxx,
The Monks,
DNA,
The Smoke,
Rhythm & Sound,
World's Most,
Slave,
The Star Department,
Los Fastidios,
Gil Scott Heron,
Arcadia,
The Sonics,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Model 500,
Neil Young,
DJ Style,
Chris Corsano,
Moebius,
The Toasters,
The Slits,
Sixth Finger,
Reuben Wilson,
Excepter,
Wally Richardson,
The Electric Prunes,
Dennis Brown,
Flash Fearless,
Quadrant,
Inner City,
Electric Prunes,
Todd Terry,
Organ,
Das Ding,
Young Marble Giants,
The Beau Brummels,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mad Mike,
The Seeds,
Byron Stingily,
The Neon Judgement,
The Dead C,
June Days,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.