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 Tuvalu and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Sao Paulo.
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 Lou Reed 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 H. Thieme 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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Larry & the Blue Notes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Quantec,
Cymande,
Bad Manners,
The Sonics,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Unwound,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Khruangbin,
Robert Wyatt,
Inner City,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Blues Magoos,
Neu!,
The Motions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
CMW,
Monolake,
The Offenders,
Malaria!,
Ronnie Foster,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Althea and Donna,
Ituana,
Minutemen,
Angry Samoans,
Pantaleimon,
Minnie Riperton,
The Vogues,
Laurel Aitken,
Dual Sessions,
Soul II Soul,
Black Bananas,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boz Scaggs,
New Age Steppers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Letta Mbulu,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tropical Tobacco,
Das Ding,
The Modern Lovers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Nico,
Country Joe & The Fish,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Alice Coltrane,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Techniques,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kenny Larkin,
X-102,
The Selecter,
Kevin Saunderson,
June Days,
This Heat,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Prince Buster,
The Index,
Radiohead,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Pharoah Sanders,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Average White Band,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.