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 Russia and from New York.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Q and Not U to the punk 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 Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Pantytec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Smiths,
In Retrospect,
Suicide,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
U.S. Maple,
The Gladiators,
Maurizio,
Scrapy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Litter,
Mars,
Camouflage,
Tres Demented,
Sam Rivers,
Charles Mingus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pylon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Radiohead,
Leonard Cohen,
The American Breed,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Alison Limerick,
Soft Machine,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Tubeway Army,
Mark Hollis,
Pulsallama,
These Immortal Souls,
Bill Near,
Nick Fraelich,
Fatback Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Peter and Kerry,
The Names,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Durutti Column,
Fugazi,
Swell Maps,
Sarah Menescal,
Barry Ungar,
Crispian St. Peters,
Au Pairs,
Tom Boy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Toni Rubio,
Pharoah Sanders,
Liliput,
The Doors,
Man Parrish,
Lalann,
Angry Samoans,
The Fuzztones,
Jeff Lynne,
Girls At Our Best!,
Joensuu 1685,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.