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 Romania and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Spokane.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Amazonics to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Royal Trux,
a-ha,
The Motions,
Warsaw,
Scratch Acid,
Deakin,
Glenn Branca,
Qualms,
Q65,
The Cowsills,
Agent Orange,
Jimmy McGriff,
David Axelrod,
The Red Krayola,
Scrapy,
Stiv Bators,
Jacob Miller,
Ossler,
Pole,
Scion,
Guru Guru,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Little Man,
Al Stewart,
John Coltrane,
Ronnie Foster,
Alphaville,
Bootsy Collins,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Minny Pops,
Pierre Henry,
Fat Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
Flash Fearless,
The American Breed,
Trumans Water,
Subhumans,
Livin' Joy,
Donald Byrd,
the Soft Cell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Monolake,
Black Moon,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Dirtbombs,
Joe Finger,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wally Richardson,
Lou Christie,
X-101,
Smog,
Intrusion,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Moleskins,
The Happenings,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sun Ra,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Albert Ayler,
Gang Gang Dance,
Peter and Kerry,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.