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 Georgia and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Pharoah Sanders to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Barclay James Harvest,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Danielle Patucci,
Slick Rick,
Toni Rubio,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Das Ding,
Jacques Brel,
Robert Wyatt,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
A Certain Ratio,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Goldenarms,
Darondo,
Quadrant,
Spandau Ballet,
Marvin Gaye,
Minny Pops,
Scratch Acid,
Eli Mardock,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Byrd,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Swans,
Fela Kuti,
The Young Rascals,
Radiopuhelimet,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Popol Vuh,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Pretty Things,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Janne Schatter,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Yellowson,
Bill Near,
Derrick Morgan,
Vainqueur,
Scientists,
Camberwell Now,
The Gladiators,
Albert Ayler,
Pantytec,
Pierre Henry,
Howard Jones,
Cybotron,
Nils Olav,
the Bar-Kays,
New York Dolls,
The Real Kids,
The Pop Group,
Depeche Mode,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Barrington Levy,
Hashim,
The Monks,
Porter Ricks,
Barry Ungar,
Angry Samoans,
Ludus,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.