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 Senegal and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Barclay James Harvest to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Michelle Simonal,
Harry Pussy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Fugs,
Clear Light,
Jimmy McGriff,
OOIOO,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Charles Mingus,
Au Pairs,
Funky Four + One,
Grauzone,
48th St. Collective,
Amon Düül II,
Lee Hazlewood,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bobby Byrd,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fortunes,
Nirvana,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bootsy Collins,
The Searchers,
B.T. Express,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Parry Music,
Main Source,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Popol Vuh,
Model 500,
Severed Heads,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Morten Harket,
Absolute Body Control,
Barry Ungar,
The Cramps,
Bobby Sherman,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Offenders,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Patti Smith,
Minor Threat,
the Fania All-Stars,
David McCallum,
Godley & Creme,
Black Moon,
Minutemen,
Mantronix,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang Starr,
Yellowson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Infiniti,
Unrelated Segments,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scion,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.