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 Guatemala and from Manila.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Toni Rubio to the funk 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps 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 a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Symarip,
Crash Course in Science,
The Residents,
Lower 48,
Television,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jacob Miller,
Pantytec,
Unwound,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ohio Players,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Arthur Verocai,
F. McDonald,
Hot Snakes,
Cheater Slicks,
Y Pants,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marmalade,
MC5,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nirvana,
Ralphi Rosario,
Second Layer,
Vainqueur,
Quantec,
Eurythmics,
Zero Boys,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ken Boothe,
Laurel Aitken,
Anthony Braxton,
The Blues Magoos,
The Gap Band,
Hardrive,
Nick Fraelich,
Scratch Acid,
Rotary Connection,
Davy DMX,
Warren Ellis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
La Düsseldorf,
Little Man,
Brothers Johnson,
The Associates,
UT,
Pierre Henry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eric B and Rakim,
Avey Tare,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Organ,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Fuzztones,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Misunderstood,
T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L..
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.