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 Russia and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Madrid.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Kinks to the grunge 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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Skriet,
Quando Quango,
Chris Corsano,
Connie Case,
Funky Four + One,
Josef K,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
John Holt,
Excepter,
Moss Icon,
The Golliwogs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Maleditus Sound,
Harry Pussy,
Chris & Cosey,
Mr. Review,
Gang Green,
The Mojo Men,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Yazoo,
Lalo Schifrin,
EPMD,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Little Man,
Maurizio,
Desert Stars,
Severed Heads,
The Red Krayola,
Technova,
Bang On A Can,
Bobby Byrd,
Peter and Kerry,
The Moleskins,
Supertramp,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lindisfarne,
Swans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fire Engines,
Wolf Eyes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Blues Magoos,
The Busters,
Pussy Galore,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Sheep,
Joyce Sims,
Wasted Youth,
Cheater Slicks,
a-ha,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Flipper,
Animal Collective,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Cluster,
Unrelated Segments,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Alison Limerick,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.