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 Kazakhstan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar 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 MC5 to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Wolf Eyes,
The Vogues,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Knickerbockers,
Mad Mike,
Joe Finger,
Deadbeat,
The Dirtbombs,
Skaos,
Robert Wyatt,
Slave,
Scrapy,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Divine Comedy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Cowsills,
Chris Corsano,
Pussy Galore,
Skriet,
Sparks,
Deepchord,
Peter and Kerry,
Easy Going,
Khruangbin,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Happenings,
The J.B.'s,
Newcleus,
Bauhaus,
The Standells,
Camberwell Now,
The Slackers,
Connie Case,
Underground Resistance,
The Associates,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fugazi,
Whodini,
Young Marble Giants,
The Stooges,
Anakelly,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Babytalk,
The Zeros,
Fad Gadget,
La Düsseldorf,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Supertramp,
Clear Light,
Thompson Twins,
Tom Boy,
Grauzone,
Audionom,
Amazonics,
Gang Starr,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.