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 Benin and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin 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 Colin Newman to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra,
Black Sheep,
Alphaville,
Arcadia,
The Searchers,
Gang Starr,
The New Christs,
Trumans Water,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Maleditus Sound,
Franke,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Babytalk,
The Gladiators,
Stiv Bators,
Harry Pussy,
Leonard Cohen,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Saccharine Trust,
Severed Heads,
The Young Rascals,
Drexciya,
Bobby Womack,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Public Image Ltd.,
Joensuu 1685,
The Star Department,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scratch Acid,
The Walker Brothers,
The Gun Club,
Charles Mingus,
Von Mondo,
Young Marble Giants,
Cal Tjader,
Scan 7,
Pet Shop Boys,
The American Breed,
The Cowsills,
The Selecter,
The Birthday Party,
Ultimate Spinach,
Traffic Nightmare,
Surgeon,
Black Moon,
Bang On A Can,
the Sonics,
Harmonia,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Livin' Joy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scrapy,
Funky Four + One,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Red Krayola,
The Smoke,
Delta 5,
X-101,
The Durutti Column,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.