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 Swaziland and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Laurel Aitken to the crunk 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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flash Fearless record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
The Raincoats,
The Flesh Eaters,
Surgeon,
Blossom Toes,
Don Cherry,
Mark Hollis,
UT,
The Grass Roots,
Hasil Adkins,
Cecil Taylor,
The Seeds,
John Cale,
Organ,
Half Japanese,
Laurel Aitken,
Monks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Inner City,
Joy Division,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Saints,
Al Stewart,
Crooked Eye,
Piero Umiliani,
Excepter,
The Mummies,
Panda Bear,
Warren Ellis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Walker Brothers,
Q and Not U,
Robert Görl,
Radiohead,
Eric Dolphy,
Minnie Riperton,
Sam Rivers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The J.B.'s,
Roxette,
Fugazi,
Bill Wells,
Tears for Fears,
Stockholm Monsters,
Marc Almond,
the Sonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Saccharine Trust,
Black Pus,
Youth Brigade,
The Remains,
Sonny Sharrock,
Magazine,
Warsaw,
The Move,
Steve Hackett,
Sex Pistols,
Bluetip,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tom Boy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.