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 Liberia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar 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 Khruangbin to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Junior Murvin,
Rotary Connection,
Pere Ubu,
Fat Boys,
Can,
FM Einheit,
Parry Music,
John Holt,
Pylon,
The Residents,
Connie Case,
Ituana,
Mantronix,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Public Enemy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tears for Fears,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Vogues,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Isaac Hayes,
Erykah Badu,
Tubeway Army,
Reuben Wilson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Robert Hood,
Jimmy McGriff,
T.S.O.L.,
Average White Band,
Wally Richardson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Piero Umiliani,
Neu!,
The Trojans,
The Angels of Light,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Swans,
DNA,
Tropical Tobacco,
B.T. Express,
Crispy Ambulance,
Livin' Joy,
Brothers Johnson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Blossom Toes,
Nick Fraelich,
The Fuzztones,
Roxy Music,
Sonny Sharrock,
Arab on Radar,
Dual Sessions,
June of 44,
Fear,
Rapeman,
The Durutti Column,
Wolf Eyes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minor Threat,
Susan Cadogan,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.