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 Czech Republic and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Red Krayola to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day 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 a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Michelle Simonal,
Chris Corsano,
Q and Not U,
Isaac Hayes,
Youth Brigade,
Bobby Byrd,
The Star Department,
Qualms,
The Motions,
The Walker Brothers,
Eden Ahbez,
The Barracudas,
The Gap Band,
The Durutti Column,
Terry Callier,
Derrick May,
The Stooges,
Robert Wyatt,
Amazonics,
Procol Harum,
John Lydon,
The Techniques,
The Velvet Underground,
Electric Prunes,
Deakin,
Organ,
Hot Snakes,
Desert Stars,
The Mojo Men,
Ken Boothe,
Outsiders,
Dead Boys,
The Kinks,
Ronnie Foster,
The Divine Comedy,
Babytalk,
The Standells,
Livin' Joy,
Marmalade,
David Bowie,
Todd Rundgren,
The Blues Magoos,
The Last Poets,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Buzzcocks,
LL Cool J,
Dorothy Ashby,
Saccharine Trust,
Reagan Youth,
The Invisible,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wasted Youth,
The Slackers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Graham Central Station,
The Dirtbombs,
Amon Düül II,
Moby Grape,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.