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 Mauritania and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 organ 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 The Monks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
PIL,
The Fortunes,
The Red Krayola,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Count Five,
DJ Style,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Slits,
Adolescents,
Camberwell Now,
Althea and Donna,
Lungfish,
Boz Scaggs,
ABBA,
The Seeds,
Ultra Naté,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nik Kershaw,
K-Klass,
The Neon Judgement,
Chris & Cosey,
Animal Collective,
Alison Limerick,
DNA,
Lou Christie,
AZ,
Deepchord,
The Black Dice,
Ronnie Foster,
The Motions,
Aaron Thompson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eden Ahbez,
The Martian,
Eric Dolphy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ronan,
Wasted Youth,
Second Layer,
MC5,
Q and Not U,
Loose Ends,
The Move,
Wolf Eyes,
Juan Atkins,
The Mummies,
Eve St. Jones,
The American Breed,
Ultimate Spinach,
Scan 7,
Tropical Tobacco,
Marc Almond,
Roy Ayers,
Kerri Chandler,
Bizarre Inc.,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mission of Burma,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.