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 Estonia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Suburban Knight to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
June Days,
Easy Going,
Sarah Menescal,
The Divine Comedy,
Monks,
Circle Jerks,
Lou Christie,
Sun Ra,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Index,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Electric Prunes,
Monolake,
The Sound,
Ice-T,
Joe Finger,
JFA,
The Walker Brothers,
Rufus Thomas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ralphi Rosario,
Connie Case,
Duran Duran,
Jacques Brel,
Eve St. Jones,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Smoke,
10cc,
Shuggie Otis,
John Cale,
Johnny Clarke,
Magma,
Graham Central Station,
Popol Vuh,
Archie Shepp,
R.M.O.,
Television,
The Smiths,
Joey Negro,
Au Pairs,
Bob Dylan,
UT,
Stockholm Monsters,
Alice Coltrane,
the Normal,
Bobby Womack,
Siglo XX,
Yellowson,
Porter Ricks,
Kaleidoscope,
Roxette,
The Searchers,
Ultra Naté,
Crash Course in Science,
Hasil Adkins,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Man Parrish,
Carl Craig,
Kerri Chandler,
Simply Red,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.