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 Bolivia and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Mummies to the punk 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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Jeff Mills,
Khruangbin,
Black Pus,
The Index,
Shoche,
Surgeon,
Donald Byrd,
Absolute Body Control,
Ash Ra Tempel,
T. Rex,
Duran Duran,
The Knickerbockers,
The Grass Roots,
This Heat,
Gichy Dan,
Dual Sessions,
The Misunderstood,
Kenny Larkin,
Heaven 17,
Barry Ungar,
The Young Rascals,
Schoolly D,
The Gladiators,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fortunes,
Ludus,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Procol Harum,
Graham Central Station,
Royal Trux,
X-102,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Swell Maps,
Amon Düül II,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ice-T,
KRS-One,
Jandek,
Rakim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Neu!,
The Invisible,
U.S. Maple,
The Fugs,
Alton Ellis,
Aural Exciters,
The Cure,
Drexciya,
Bobby Byrd,
B.T. Express,
The Beau Brummels,
DJ Style,
The Fuzztones,
Electric Prunes,
Deepchord,
X-Ray Spex,
Kas Product,
Patti Smith,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.