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 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
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 Alton Ellis to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Matthew Bourne,
Soft Machine,
The Doors,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Fire Engines,
The Trojans,
Underground Resistance,
Sam Rivers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Das Ding,
Eli Mardock,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nation of Ulysses,
Q and Not U,
Bill Wells,
Bang On A Can,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Frankie Knuckles,
FM Einheit,
Jeff Lynne,
Aswad,
Letta Mbulu,
Drive Like Jehu,
UT,
Fugazi,
Con Funk Shun,
Skarface,
Warsaw,
Electric Prunes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Khruangbin,
The Modern Lovers,
Bill Near,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
X-Ray Spex,
The Slits,
Eurythmics,
Hoover,
The Last Poets,
Harry Pussy,
The Fortunes,
Jacques Brel,
The Stooges,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Slackers,
Moebius,
The Cramps,
Sight & Sound,
Connie Case,
John Holt,
Glenn Branca,
Skriet,
Sun Ra,
Von Mondo,
Faraquet,
Visage,
The Kinks,
Can,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tommy Roe,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.