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 Mozambique and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Aswad to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sex Pistols,
Easy Going,
Harmonia,
Pantytec,
Schoolly D,
The Gun Club,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jerry's Kids,
Eddi Front,
Howard Jones,
The Doors,
Ornette Coleman,
Harry Pussy,
K-Klass,
The Smiths,
Can,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobby Sherman,
Dennis Brown,
Vladislav Delay,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Flamin' Groovies,
Black Pus,
Bluetip,
Mr. Review,
Jacques Brel,
Angry Samoans,
Mad Mike,
Tomorrow,
Grauzone,
Aural Exciters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
James White and The Blacks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scratch Acid,
Excepter,
Magma,
Whodini,
Parry Music,
Cymande,
The Stooges,
The Black Dice,
Y Pants,
Average White Band,
Soulsonic Force,
EPMD,
The Wake,
The Pretty Things,
Crime,
Matthew Bourne,
Jeff Lynne,
Fad Gadget,
Mandrill,
Banda Bassotti,
Smog,
Ronan,
Yusef Lateef,
John Holt,
Goldenarms,
Max Romeo,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.