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 Eritrea 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the grime 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 KRS-One. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
48th St. Collective,
Bad Manners,
The Dave Clark Five,
Parry Music,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Alton Ellis,
Wire,
The Gap Band,
Terry Callier,
Toni Rubio,
In Retrospect,
The Offenders,
Skarface,
Yellowson,
The Mummies,
Minor Threat,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Severed Heads,
Nils Olav,
Scan 7,
Ornette Coleman,
Suicide,
Monks,
Second Layer,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ken Boothe,
Mandrill,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Robert Wyatt,
Beasts of Bourbon,
DJ Style,
Supertramp,
Ronnie Foster,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Vogues,
Excepter,
Archie Shepp,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Move,
Marmalade,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Country Teasers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Buzzcocks,
The Real Kids,
the Sonics,
Black Bananas,
Banda Bassotti,
Interpol,
KRS-One,
Dual Sessions,
PIL,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Red Krayola,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Quantec,
The Misunderstood,
Don Cherry,
Dawn Penn,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ice-T,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.