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 Solomon Islands and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Tim Buckley to the grunge 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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
World's Most,
Brass Construction,
The Slackers,
The Doors,
Magazine,
The Blackbyrds,
Hashim,
Urselle,
Arab on Radar,
The Wake,
Big Daddy Kane,
Quando Quango,
Scratch Acid,
Fela Kuti,
Unwound,
Oneida,
Au Pairs,
Japan,
Surgeon,
Freddie Wadling,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Camberwell Now,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gong,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dennis Brown,
Gregory Isaacs,
Country Teasers,
the Germs,
T.S.O.L.,
Pharoah Sanders,
Depeche Mode,
James White and The Blacks,
CMW,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sällskapet,
Malaria!,
The Fire Engines,
Suicide,
Tom Boy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
DJ Sneak,
The Barracudas,
Amon Düül II,
Von Mondo,
Minutemen,
Godley & Creme,
Mantronix,
Ronan,
Eden Ahbez,
Crime,
Spandau Ballet,
Letta Mbulu,
Basic Channel,
Bluetip,
Crash Course in Science,
Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
Animal Collective,
Arthur Verocai,
Susan Cadogan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.