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 St Lucia and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the guitar 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Goldenarms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Avey Tare,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cluster,
The Misunderstood,
Scrapy,
Arthur Verocai,
Amon Düül II,
Eddi Front,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
La Düsseldorf,
Reagan Youth,
the Sonics,
Gang Green,
L. Decosne,
Prince Buster,
Sarah Menescal,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sonny Sharrock,
Parry Music,
Radio Birdman,
The Golliwogs,
Con Funk Shun,
The Mojo Men,
Minor Threat,
Maurizio,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Velvet Underground,
Outsiders,
Brass Construction,
Tom Boy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bang On A Can,
Das Ding,
the Slits,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eric B and Rakim,
Essential Logic,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Move,
AZ,
10cc,
Wings,
The Beau Brummels,
Saccharine Trust,
Nils Olav,
The Smoke,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deadbeat,
Tommy Roe,
Albert Ayler,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sun City Girls,
Roxette,
The Wake,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Young Rascals,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marc Almond,
Lalann,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.