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 Turkey and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Theoretical Girls 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Guru Guru,
The Offenders,
Youth Brigade,
The Happenings,
Yaz,
Severed Heads,
Rakim,
Model 500,
Blossom Toes,
Jandek,
The Stooges,
Gichy Dan,
Suburban Knight,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pierre Henry,
Soft Machine,
Dead Boys,
The Doobie Brothers,
Byron Stingily,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Steve Hackett,
Johnny Osbourne,
Surgeon,
Thee Headcoats,
The Barracudas,
Hoover,
Beasts of Bourbon,
X-Ray Spex,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Fuzztones,
The Cramps,
The Standells,
The Young Rascals,
The Mummies,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cymande,
Colin Newman,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Pus,
Roxy Music,
John Holt,
The Last Poets,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Neil Young,
The Smiths,
The Kinks,
Warsaw,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Buzzcocks,
Crooked Eye,
Livin' Joy,
Tears for Fears,
Eddi Front,
Pere Ubu,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.