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 Mongolia and from Mumbai.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Saints to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Godley & Creme,
June Days,
Iggy Pop,
Rites of Spring,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lalann,
Electric Prunes,
Tommy Roe,
Bauhaus,
The Doobie Brothers,
Peter & Gordon,
Joy Division,
the Association,
Byron Stingily,
Darondo,
The Residents,
Khruangbin,
Derrick Morgan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sällskapet,
Cymande,
Bob Dylan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Music Machine,
Yusef Lateef,
Max Romeo,
Scratch Acid,
T.S.O.L.,
The Young Rascals,
Sandy B,
ABC,
Ronnie Foster,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Evens,
Magma,
Dawn Penn,
Swans,
Quantec,
E-Dancer,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
John Foxx,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Cramps,
Newcleus,
Fear,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Con Funk Shun,
Alton Ellis,
The Techniques,
Ossler,
Michelle Simonal,
Lou Christie,
Accadde A,
Little Man,
Sugar Minott,
Bobby Sherman,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.