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 Ireland and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Robert Hood to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Skarface,
Gichy Dan,
Inner City,
The Moleskins,
Desert Stars,
The Velvet Underground,
Wolf Eyes,
Arcadia,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Smoke,
Wasted Youth,
Jeff Lynne,
The Young Rascals,
Derrick May,
Hashim,
Ken Boothe,
The New Christs,
Man Parrish,
The Kinks,
Nico,
Agent Orange,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ronan,
Bizarre Inc.,
Grandmaster Flash,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Görl,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Thee Headcoats,
The Cowsills,
Scrapy,
The Star Department,
Royal Trux,
The Monks,
Altered Images,
Public Enemy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Absolute Body Control,
FM Einheit,
Television Personalities,
Duran Duran,
The Searchers,
Yellowson,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Red Krayola,
Drexciya,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Graham Central Station,
The Shadows of Knight,
Josef K,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Slits,
The Blues Magoos,
Hoover,
KRS-One,
Gang Green,
The Selecter,
Carl Craig,
Ohio Players,
Crime,
The Angels of Light,
Lalann,
Isaac Hayes,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.