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 Vietnam and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eden Ahbez to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Inner City,
Sister Nancy,
Adolescents,
Goldenarms,
Joyce Sims,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Aloha Tigers,
Tommy Roe,
The Tremeloes,
Lungfish,
John Lydon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eve St. Jones,
Rekid,
Khruangbin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bill Wells,
Aaron Thompson,
Ossler,
Grandmaster Flash,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Quando Quango,
The Doobie Brothers,
Amazonics,
Sun Ra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mars,
Minutemen,
The Flesh Eaters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Brick,
Sound Behaviour,
Kaleidoscope,
Popol Vuh,
T.S.O.L.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
R.M.O.,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Mandrill,
Cheater Slicks,
The Blues Magoos,
David Bowie,
The Five Americans,
Franke,
This Heat,
The Angels of Light,
Circle Jerks,
Rosa Yemen,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pierre Henry,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Seeds,
Surgeon,
Harmonia,
The Sonics,
Man Parrish,
Symarip,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Association,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Sherman,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.