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 Kyrgyzstan and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 güiro 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 Pole to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eurythmics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Selecter,
Henry Cow,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fela Kuti,
James White and The Blacks,
Heaven 17,
Bootsy Collins,
Alice Coltrane,
Chrome,
Television,
The Saints,
Infiniti,
T.S.O.L.,
Fat Boys,
Skaos,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gichy Dan,
Black Sheep,
Motorama,
The Remains,
John Foxx,
Unwound,
June Days,
LL Cool J,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Litter,
The Star Department,
Idris Muhammad,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Stooges,
Jacques Brel,
Mark Hollis,
The Offenders,
Godley & Creme,
The Wake,
Marcia Griffiths,
Make Up,
Sister Nancy,
Malaria!,
E-Dancer,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Black Dice,
ABC,
The Walker Brothers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pussy Galore,
Bob Dylan,
Carl Craig,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Zapp,
the Fania All-Stars,
Minutemen,
Duran Duran,
Jawbox,
Cheater Slicks,
Yaz,
Metal Thangz,
Neu!,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Echospace,
Janne Schatter,
kango's stein massive,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.