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 South Africa and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum 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 The Knickerbockers to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Godley & Creme,
Young Marble Giants,
Rod Modell,
The Kinks,
Mad Mike,
Radiohead,
Maleditus Sound,
Erasure,
Bill Near,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Gladiators,
Eric Copeland,
Rhythm & Sound,
Idris Muhammad,
The Offenders,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Traffic Nightmare,
cv313,
Khruangbin,
Moebius,
Ossler,
Kool Moe Dee,
Talk Talk,
Charles Mingus,
Freddie Wadling,
Royal Trux,
Amon Düül II,
Gong,
The Fuzztones,
Glenn Branca,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mark Hollis,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Soft Cell,
Nik Kershaw,
Dawn Penn,
Amazonics,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nils Olav,
Unwound,
Sam Rivers,
The Associates,
Scratch Acid,
Metal Thangz,
Alison Limerick,
Kenny Larkin,
Skriet,
Black Pus,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
New York Dolls,
New Age Steppers,
Janne Schatter,
Marvin Gaye,
L. Decosne,
Roger Hodgson,
Morten Harket,
Bush Tetras,
Al Stewart,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.