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 Turkmenistan 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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Calgary.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bang On A Can to the electroclash 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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Buzzcocks,
Freddie Wadling,
Ornette Coleman,
Kaleidoscope,
Ronan,
Josef K,
Barry Ungar,
Deakin,
Pagans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Invisible,
Suburban Knight,
Jandek,
Boogie Down Productions,
Scion,
David McCallum,
Y Pants,
Loose Ends,
Soft Cell,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
One Last Wish,
Fat Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
Zero Boys,
Jacques Brel,
Altered Images,
Drexciya,
Grauzone,
Boz Scaggs,
Infiniti,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Royal Trux,
Tubeway Army,
the Bar-Kays,
Wally Richardson,
Lindisfarne,
Adolescents,
Negative Approach,
Bobby Womack,
Alison Limerick,
Warren Ellis,
Fear,
Robert Hood,
Crispy Ambulance,
Unwound,
Brothers Johnson,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Brick,
DNA,
Motorama,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Alice Coltrane,
The Slits,
World's Most,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Delta 5,
Donald Byrd,
Derrick Morgan,
Scott Walker,
Eli Mardock,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.