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 Nigeria and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Camouflage,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Flag,
The Names,
Thee Headcoats,
Roxette,
The Walker Brothers,
The Moody Blues,
H. Thieme,
Oblivians,
Kurtis Blow,
Technova,
Pet Shop Boys,
Erykah Badu,
Fad Gadget,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Foxx,
The Blackbyrds,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hasil Adkins,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scan 7,
Section 25,
Pole,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Johnny Osbourne,
Deakin,
Connie Case,
Joey Negro,
Popol Vuh,
Magazine,
Smog,
Stiv Bators,
The Fuzztones,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Japan,
The Happenings,
The Invisible,
Amon Düül II,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed,
The Skatalites,
Mars,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Birthday Party,
Gang Starr,
Glenn Branca,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Derrick Morgan,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Evens,
Das Ding,
Chris & Cosey,
Alice Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
Lucky Dragons,
Aloha Tigers,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Mantronix,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.