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 Thailand and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 güiro 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 Nik Kershaw to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
The Walker Brothers,
Audionom,
Accadde A,
Japan,
Fluxion,
Monks,
Bootsy Collins,
Scrapy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ken Boothe,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kerri Chandler,
Brothers Johnson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Flamin' Groovies,
Maleditus Sound,
Howard Jones,
Angry Samoans,
The Leaves,
Country Teasers,
Gabor Szabo,
Los Fastidios,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eddi Front,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Stooges,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
DJ Sneak,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
June Days,
Roxy Music,
Donald Byrd,
Eden Ahbez,
Sparks,
Aloha Tigers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Niagra,
Max Romeo,
Radio Birdman,
Barclay James Harvest,
New Order,
Reagan Youth,
Schoolly D,
Excepter,
John Cale,
Sixth Finger,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Juan Atkins,
Cluster,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
This Heat,
The Invisible,
The Cowsills,
Barbara Tucker,
Basic Channel,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Slits,
Thee Headcoats,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.