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 Dominica and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Basic Channel to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thompson Twins 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
The Golliwogs,
The Young Rascals,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sparks,
The Stooges,
Bang On A Can,
The Offenders,
Brand Nubian,
Bush Tetras,
Moebius,
The Move,
Trumans Water,
Rosa Yemen,
Parry Music,
The Alarm Clocks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Doors,
Mars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The United States of America,
The Divine Comedy,
Rites of Spring,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Silicon Teens,
The Buckinghams,
Zapp,
Steve Hackett,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cowsills,
X-Ray Spex,
Lou Reed,
Schoolly D,
Spoonie Gee,
The Remains,
Moby Grape,
Circle Jerks,
The Star Department,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Faraquet,
Sugar Minott,
Jawbox,
The Dead C,
Sunsets and Hearts,
New Order,
The Knickerbockers,
Popol Vuh,
Albert Ayler,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Barracudas,
Arab on Radar,
Moss Icon,
Chris Corsano,
Iggy Pop,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Country Teasers,
The Smiths,
Talk Talk,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobby Byrd,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.