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 Solomon Islands and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Marc Almond 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things 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 techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Swell Maps,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
K-Klass,
Marine Girls,
Danielle Patucci,
The Leaves,
Bauhaus,
Kayak,
Adolescents,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Selecter,
Subhumans,
Bobby Sherman,
Ohio Players,
The Mummies,
Nirvana,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mary Jane Girls,
David McCallum,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Golliwogs,
Judy Mowatt,
Deadbeat,
Black Bananas,
Johnny Osbourne,
Youth Brigade,
The Birthday Party,
The Raincoats,
Brick,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang Gang Dance,
Soft Machine,
Rosa Yemen,
Fat Boys,
Anakelly,
Main Source,
Black Pus,
New Order,
Arab on Radar,
Ronan,
Albert Ayler,
Black Flag,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sandy B,
Spandau Ballet,
Cecil Taylor,
Severed Heads,
Roxy Music,
Andrew Hill,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Invisible,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Brothers Johnson,
Intrusion,
Eric Copeland,
La Düsseldorf,
Carl Craig,
Joy Division,
10cc,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.