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 Bangladesh and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ 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 Royal Trux to the crunk 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Mantronix,
Black Moon,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Erykah Badu,
Pulsallama,
Anthony Braxton,
The Divine Comedy,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Fugs,
Siglo XX,
Bauhaus,
Alice Coltrane,
Deakin,
Rakim,
Dawn Penn,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Alison Limerick,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pussy Galore,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Monks,
Ohio Players,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dave Gahan,
Steve Hackett,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mad Mike,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
ABBA,
The Associates,
Harpers Bizarre,
Morten Harket,
Minny Pops,
The Saints,
Eddi Front,
Average White Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Bad Manners,
Black Sheep,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lindisfarne,
Johnny Clarke,
Lakeside,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Joensuu 1685,
The Smoke,
The New Christs,
Howard Jones,
Bronski Beat,
The Durutti Column,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Slackers,
Aloha Tigers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Little Man,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Junior Murvin,
Franke,
Desert Stars,
The Vogues,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.