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 Kuwait and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Gladiators to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
John Holt,
Grauzone,
Circle Jerks,
The Shadows of Knight,
David Bowie,
Jerry's Kids,
The Barracudas,
Malaria!,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Wyatt,
Oneida,
Visage,
Scientists,
Terrestrial Tones,
This Heat,
Cameo,
Liliput,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Panda Bear,
Ornette Coleman,
Roxette,
Jandek,
ABBA,
Bronski Beat,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hardrive,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Gap Band,
Flipper,
Sam Rivers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Goldenarms,
Dark Day,
John Lydon,
Accadde A,
Duran Duran,
Yellowson,
Gang Starr,
Toni Rubio,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Thee Headcoats,
Judy Mowatt,
Jeff Lynne,
Scrapy,
Black Flag,
Amon Düül,
Popol Vuh,
Pierre Henry,
Pulsallama,
Stockholm Monsters,
Juan Atkins,
Can,
Bizarre Inc.,
Brick,
Alison Limerick,
Jeff Mills,
Anakelly,
Hot Snakes,
The Stooges,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.