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 Samoa and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angry Samoans to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek 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 '90s.
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 Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fluxion,
Cluster,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Sound,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scion,
Radiohead,
Faraquet,
Skriet,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
H. Thieme,
Rhythm & Sound,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ultimate Spinach,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Camberwell Now,
Procol Harum,
Archie Shepp,
Adolescents,
Fear,
Scratch Acid,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rosa Yemen,
Fela Kuti,
Althea and Donna,
John Coltrane,
Excepter,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Germs,
The Residents,
Pharoah Sanders,
Buzzcocks,
Tom Boy,
The Red Krayola,
Television,
Negative Approach,
Derrick Morgan,
Zapp,
The Angels of Light,
Ken Boothe,
The Flesh Eaters,
Don Cherry,
The Associates,
The Tremeloes,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Neon Judgement,
Josef K,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jeff Lynne,
Eric Dolphy,
Ice-T,
Jeff Mills,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gang Green,
Barbara Tucker,
Can,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.