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 Mexico and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 guitar 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 Television Personalities to the crunk 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans 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 '80s.
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 Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Charles Mingus,
Royal Trux,
Patti Smith,
Nils Olav,
Loose Ends,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minutemen,
Pulsallama,
The Fuzztones,
Joey Negro,
The Fugs,
The Zeros,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rufus Thomas,
Josef K,
June of 44,
Tears for Fears,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mantronix,
Letta Mbulu,
The Names,
Crash Course in Science,
In Retrospect,
James White and The Blacks,
Underground Resistance,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Stockholm Monsters,
Deadbeat,
Sun Ra,
Hot Snakes,
Derrick Morgan,
The Sound,
Nik Kershaw,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ituana,
the Slits,
CMW,
DNA,
the Swans,
Aural Exciters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kool Moe Dee,
Quadrant,
kango's stein massive,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Magazine,
Mission of Burma,
Symarip,
John Cale,
The Searchers,
Severed Heads,
Scion,
Von Mondo,
Bob Dylan,
The Litter,
Soft Cell,
The Monks,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.