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 Kosovo and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Seoul.
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 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 Bill Near to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
B.T. Express,
The Flesh Eaters,
Depeche Mode,
The Techniques,
Brick,
Absolute Body Control,
Brothers Johnson,
Andrew Hill,
Ice-T,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Siglo XX,
Dennis Brown,
Kas Product,
U.S. Maple,
The Offenders,
Circle Jerks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Skaos,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Leonard Cohen,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Slick Rick,
Flamin' Groovies,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Audionom,
Pole,
Stetsasonic,
Robert Wyatt,
Tears for Fears,
Rakim,
Visage,
Masters at Work,
Organ,
Blancmange,
Tomorrow,
Rapeman,
Traffic Nightmare,
Al Stewart,
Rhythm & Sound,
Procol Harum,
Alton Ellis,
Malaria!,
Scratch Acid,
John Foxx,
Drexciya,
Gang of Four,
H. Thieme,
Roger Hodgson,
Sparks,
Soft Machine,
The Last Poets,
Ossler,
Carl Craig,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Dorothy Ashby,
Freddie Wadling,
Young Marble Giants,
The Monks,
Fela Kuti,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.