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 Italy and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Roxette to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Dennis Brown,
Monolake,
Gabor Szabo,
The Durutti Column,
Marmalade,
Harpers Bizarre,
Faust,
H. Thieme,
Chrome,
Warsaw,
The Shadows of Knight,
Unwound,
Reagan Youth,
Stiv Bators,
The Divine Comedy,
The Red Krayola,
Derrick May,
Eurythmics,
Peter and Kerry,
The Monochrome Set,
The Pretty Things,
New Age Steppers,
Jawbox,
Deadbeat,
Archie Shepp,
Glambeats Corp.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pussy Galore,
Prince Buster,
Gang Starr,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pere Ubu,
The Fortunes,
Mars,
Harry Pussy,
Stereo Dub,
Subhumans,
Donald Byrd,
The Modern Lovers,
Amazonics,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pantytec,
Aswad,
the Soft Cell,
DNA,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sugar Minott,
Sarah Menescal,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Unrelated Segments,
The Cure,
Bobby Byrd,
X-101,
Desert Stars,
the Association,
La Düsseldorf,
Pulsallama,
The Index,
Matthew Bourne,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.