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 Slovenia and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Amon Düül II to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
X-101,
Rekid,
The Alarm Clocks,
Newcleus,
Whodini,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Duran Duran,
Black Bananas,
The Vogues,
Sällskapet,
Icehouse,
Ossler,
Ultravox,
Kaleidoscope,
Hot Snakes,
Youth Brigade,
Scion,
Clear Light,
The Toasters,
Mo-Dettes,
Scrapy,
Inner City,
Black Moon,
Roy Ayers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Searchers,
Barrington Levy,
John Coltrane,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mr. Review,
The J.B.'s,
Metal Thangz,
Camberwell Now,
The Angels of Light,
Yaz,
The Tremeloes,
Bang On A Can,
Boz Scaggs,
Saccharine Trust,
Eden Ahbez,
T. Rex,
The Leaves,
Blake Baxter,
Tom Boy,
ABC,
Babytalk,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Fire Engines,
Eli Mardock,
Fat Boys,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fatback Band,
Gang Starr,
Sound Behaviour,
L. Decosne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ituana,
Stereo Dub,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fad Gadget,
Amazonics,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.