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 Micronesia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 sitar 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 Bobby Womack to the electroclash 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
Archie Shepp,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gerry Rafferty,
Wings,
Donald Byrd,
Eve St. Jones,
Jandek,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cheater Slicks,
Glenn Branca,
Dead Boys,
Max Romeo,
48th St. Collective,
Andrew Hill,
Dorothy Ashby,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Gun Club,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cybotron,
EPMD,
Procol Harum,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Organ,
The Stooges,
Sandy B,
John Cale,
The Saints,
Jesper Dahlback,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ohio Players,
R.M.O.,
Bill Wells,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Surgeon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Funkadelic,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scratch Acid,
Mary Jane Girls,
Arthur Verocai,
Sugar Minott,
Amon Düül,
KRS-One,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Visage,
Derrick Morgan,
Popol Vuh,
the Sonics,
Gichy Dan,
Spandau Ballet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soul II Soul,
Man Parrish,
DJ Style,
June of 44,
Kurtis Blow,
A Certain Ratio,
Sällskapet,
Japan,
Pole,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Joey Negro,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.