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 Haiti and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Accra.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 John Lydon to the dance 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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Procol Harum,
Soft Machine,
China Crisis,
Simply Red,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Fortunes,
Sällskapet,
R.M.O.,
Rakim,
Trumans Water,
Easy Going,
The Misunderstood,
Ten City,
Youth Brigade,
kango's stein massive,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Monolake,
The Index,
Wally Richardson,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sex Pistols,
Fela Kuti,
Brothers Johnson,
Judy Mowatt,
Niagra,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Evens,
Pole,
Harry Pussy,
Ossler,
Q and Not U,
Pantaleimon,
Smog,
Electric Prunes,
The Shadows of Knight,
Mark Hollis,
Bob Dylan,
Bizarre Inc.,
DJ Style,
The Blues Magoos,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Boogie Down Productions,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Robert Görl,
Kenny Larkin,
Archie Shepp,
Malaria!,
Theoretical Girls,
The American Breed,
Radio Birdman,
Warren Ellis,
The Five Americans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scrapy,
Colin Newman,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Crime,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Dead Boys,
Quadrant,
Hasil Adkins,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Newcleus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.