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 Papua New Guinea and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 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 Lindisfarne to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Mad Mike,
Brothers Johnson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jacques Brel,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Black Dice,
Aural Exciters,
Kool Moe Dee,
Al Stewart,
kango's stein massive,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cymande,
Simply Red,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mark Hollis,
Reuben Wilson,
Warsaw,
Bobby Womack,
Saccharine Trust,
Von Mondo,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jesper Dahlback,
Trumans Water,
Barbara Tucker,
Bad Manners,
Khruangbin,
Black Pus,
Hoover,
The Misunderstood,
Y Pants,
Roy Ayers,
Man Parrish,
Rapeman,
Harmonia,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Germs,
The Cramps,
Kenny Larkin,
Suicide,
Outsiders,
Aloha Tigers,
Bill Wells,
Masters at Work,
Can,
The Standells,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Adolescents,
48th St. Collective,
Unrelated Segments,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bizarre Inc.,
Porter Ricks,
Joyce Sims,
Procol Harum,
Intrusion,
Das Ding,
The Grass Roots,
The Five Americans,
MDC,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan, Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan.
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.