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 Iraq and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bremen.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 New York Dolls to the jazz 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Eric B and Rakim,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Neu!,
Essential Logic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
a-ha,
The Five Americans,
The Motions,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Monochrome Set,
Freddie Wadling,
DJ Style,
Lightning Bolt,
Gichy Dan,
Minor Threat,
Average White Band,
Tomorrow,
Bill Wells,
Section 25,
Oblivians,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Unrelated Segments,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marine Girls,
The Dead C,
Fela Kuti,
The Walker Brothers,
Deadbeat,
FM Einheit,
Black Moon,
Livin' Joy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Inner City,
DJ Sneak,
Amon Düül,
John Coltrane,
Moby Grape,
Joyce Sims,
Magma,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Archie Shepp,
Surgeon,
Ken Boothe,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Spoonie Gee,
Masters at Work,
Bobby Sherman,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tim Buckley,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Offenders,
Bobby Byrd,
Y Pants,
Sixth Finger,
The Sonics,
Anakelly,
Morten Harket,
Pantaleimon,
The Grass Roots,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.