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 Swaziland and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb 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 a-ha to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minor Threat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
James White and The Blacks,
Eden Ahbez,
Goldenarms,
Janne Schatter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cowsills,
The Modern Lovers,
Unwound,
A Certain Ratio,
Malaria!,
Wolf Eyes,
Bluetip,
Chris Corsano,
UT,
Duran Duran,
Wasted Youth,
Lower 48,
Andrew Hill,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mandrill,
Moss Icon,
Prince Buster,
Smog,
Kenny Larkin,
Camberwell Now,
Little Man,
Agent Orange,
Pussy Galore,
Ice-T,
the Slits,
Saccharine Trust,
Von Mondo,
Leonard Cohen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Pus,
Tubeway Army,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Mummies,
Sparks,
Mad Mike,
The Monks,
Cluster,
The Five Americans,
John Lydon,
Can,
Banda Bassotti,
The Evens,
Motorama,
Au Pairs,
Derrick Morgan,
Buzzcocks,
EPMD,
KRS-One,
Ultimate Spinach,
Terry Callier,
London Community Gospel Choir,
This Heat,
Adolescents,
Freddie Wadling,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.