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 Ecuador and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 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 Eve St. Jones to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Chris Corsano,
Theoretical Girls,
The Victims,
AZ,
Bill Near,
Joe Finger,
The Toasters,
Bobby Womack,
The Gap Band,
Silicon Teens,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joey Negro,
Hot Snakes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ten City,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tomorrow,
Q and Not U,
Todd Rundgren,
Arab on Radar,
Barrington Levy,
The Index,
Faust,
Grauzone,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Man Eating Sloth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Real Kids,
Inner City,
New York Dolls,
Ken Boothe,
Procol Harum,
Scratch Acid,
Index,
Idris Muhammad,
John Holt,
Hardrive,
Josef K,
Eyeless In Gaza,
ABC,
F. McDonald,
MC5,
Gang Gang Dance,
Letta Mbulu,
Crime,
Fela Kuti,
Erasure,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Delon & Dalcan,
Vladislav Delay,
The Kinks,
Spandau Ballet,
Althea and Donna,
Johnny Clarke,
Danielle Patucci,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fad Gadget,
The Smoke,
Piero Umiliani,
These Immortal Souls,
Vainqueur,
Black Flag,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.