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 Nepal and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Busters to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bush Tetras,
Todd Terry,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Johnny Osbourne,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cameo,
Skaos,
The Gap Band,
Khruangbin,
The Gun Club,
Bill Near,
Arthur Verocai,
Anthony Braxton,
Barry Ungar,
Scientists,
Marvin Gaye,
Warsaw,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Modern Lovers,
Animal Collective,
Peter and Kerry,
Godley & Creme,
X-102,
Popol Vuh,
Piero Umiliani,
Marine Girls,
Angry Samoans,
Shoche,
Ralphi Rosario,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Litter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
T. Rex,
Ornette Coleman,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ultravox,
The Misunderstood,
Wally Richardson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rod Modell,
Juan Atkins,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Happenings,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lightning Bolt,
Mandrill,
Henry Cow,
Joensuu 1685,
Bill Wells,
Crispy Ambulance,
Camberwell Now,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
the Slits,
Moebius,
Blancmange,
Absolute Body Control,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.