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 Peru and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 arpeggiator 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 Johnny Clarke to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Groovy Waters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rahsaan Roland Kirk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Lower 48,
Graham Central Station,
48th St. Collective,
Maleditus Sound,
The Associates,
Pussy Galore,
Desert Stars,
June of 44,
Aural Exciters,
Surgeon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Black Dice,
AZ,
Severed Heads,
Parry Music,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lee Hazlewood,
Flipper,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
cv313,
The Gap Band,
Oblivians,
Yellowson,
E-Dancer,
Bush Tetras,
Bang On A Can,
Bauhaus,
Cluster,
Jeru the Damaja,
Adolescents,
Scott Walker,
The Beau Brummels,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Angels of Light,
Fad Gadget,
Porter Ricks,
John Lydon,
Panda Bear,
The Last Poets,
Organ,
John Cale,
Crispy Ambulance,
Andrew Hill,
Dennis Brown,
Ronan,
Eddi Front,
Silicon Teens,
Alison Limerick,
Zapp,
Ten City,
Carl Craig,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Lalann,
Angry Samoans,
Goldenarms,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Modern Lovers,
Amon Düül II,
Duran Duran,
Cal Tjader,
The Saints,
The Zeros,
John Foxx,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.