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 Laos and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe 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 Henry Cow to the dance 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barbara Tucker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Urselle,
48th St. Collective,
Sandy B,
Cecil Taylor,
Dead Boys,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eden Ahbez,
Carl Craig,
Simply Red,
The Raincoats,
Gerry Rafferty,
Grauzone,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jerry's Kids,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Desert Stars,
Aloha Tigers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Public Enemy,
Eric Copeland,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pulsallama,
Nas,
Scion,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gap Band,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nick Fraelich,
Minor Threat,
Roger Hodgson,
Sparks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Radio Birdman,
Minny Pops,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Terry Callier,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Blackbyrds,
Moss Icon,
Tubeway Army,
Deepchord,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pantytec,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Skatalites,
Thee Headcoats,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Soft Cell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minnie Riperton,
Bad Manners,
Sun Ra,
Porter Ricks,
James White and The Blacks,
Joyce Sims,
Tropical Tobacco,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eli Mardock,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Young Rascals,
Dave Gahan,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.