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 Yemen and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 X-Ray Spex to the grunge 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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Alice Coltrane,
The Blackbyrds,
The Real Kids,
Fugazi,
The American Breed,
Loose Ends,
Judy Mowatt,
Pylon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Brick,
Harpers Bizarre,
Brass Construction,
The Tremeloes,
Stetsasonic,
World's Most,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Crooked Eye,
Minny Pops,
Jimmy McGriff,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pagans,
Vainqueur,
John Cale,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Robert Hood,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Alison Limerick,
Pere Ubu,
The Martian,
Johnny Clarke,
Spandau Ballet,
The Zeros,
Peter and Kerry,
The Mummies,
Amon Düül,
Wasted Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Moody Blues,
Yaz,
Eric Dolphy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Harry Pussy,
Los Fastidios,
Skriet,
The Red Krayola,
Bad Manners,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pantytec,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fire Engines,
Sam Rivers,
Barry Ungar,
Peter & Gordon,
Amazonics,
Groovy Waters,
Procol Harum,
Gang Green,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.