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 Kyrgyzstan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
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 guitar 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 Agent Orange to the dance 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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DeepChord presents Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Eve St. Jones,
Rapeman,
Warsaw,
The Dead C,
8 Eyed Spy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Detroit Cobras,
Crash Course in Science,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Music Machine,
The Buckinghams,
Donald Byrd,
Japan,
Tubeway Army,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pierre Henry,
Malaria!,
Arcadia,
X-102,
Amon Düül II,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kevin Saunderson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jeff Lynne,
Amazonics,
Boz Scaggs,
Junior Murvin,
Chrome,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Moleskins,
Section 25,
The Modern Lovers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Count Five,
Metal Thangz,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nico,
Mars,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sparks,
Altered Images,
Theoretical Girls,
Franke,
the Bar-Kays,
Skarface,
Lindisfarne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Q and Not U,
Pagans,
Khruangbin,
The Leaves,
Wolf Eyes,
Marmalade,
Yusef Lateef,
Soulsonic Force,
Clear Light,
Outsiders,
Roy Ayers,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.