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 Australia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 Yaz to the rap 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Albert Ayler,
Eve St. Jones,
John Lydon,
Aaron Thompson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mr. Review,
Brick,
The Trojans,
Soulsonic Force,
Nico,
The Cure,
Donny Hathaway,
Goldenarms,
Robert Hood,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sällskapet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Seeds,
Tom Boy,
B.T. Express,
Mantronix,
The Music Machine,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Wally Richardson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pantaleimon,
The Dirtbombs,
Graham Central Station,
Marc Almond,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Kinks,
Bush Tetras,
Arcadia,
Iggy Pop,
Soul II Soul,
Fluxion,
Zapp,
Lou Reed,
KRS-One,
Y Pants,
Deadbeat,
kango's stein massive,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Index,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Hoover,
Leonard Cohen,
The Happenings,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pole,
Sixth Finger,
Chrome,
Echospace,
Ronnie Foster,
DNA,
DJ Sneak,
Roxy Music,
the Soft Cell,
Jandek,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.