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 St Lucia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer 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 The Cure to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Sound,
Deepchord,
Junior Murvin,
Brass Construction,
June Days,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Al Stewart,
JFA,
The Dead C,
The Fortunes,
Joy Division,
Anthony Braxton,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Sheep,
The New Christs,
The Vogues,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Severed Heads,
Echospace,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Liliput,
Lightning Bolt,
Pierre Henry,
China Crisis,
DNA,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Arab on Radar,
Inner City,
Gong,
Agitation Free,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rapeman,
Theoretical Girls,
Warren Ellis,
Alison Limerick,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ponytail,
Cheater Slicks,
Urselle,
The Divine Comedy,
The Gun Club,
Sex Pistols,
Blossom Toes,
Glenn Branca,
The Techniques,
Charles Mingus,
8 Eyed Spy,
Danielle Patucci,
Sun Ra,
Letta Mbulu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Darondo,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Doobie Brothers,
Buzzcocks,
Wasted Youth,
Dual Sessions,
Neil Young,
Harpers Bizarre,
These Immortal Souls,
Desert Stars,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.