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 Dominican Republic and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Eddi Front to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s 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 Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
8 Eyed Spy,
Symarip,
Boredoms,
Deepchord,
Lucky Dragons,
Make Up,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Minutemen,
Crooked Eye,
Angry Samoans,
X-102,
Ice-T,
The Residents,
The Standells,
The American Breed,
John Coltrane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fear,
Marcia Griffiths,
Siglo XX,
Organ,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Soulsonic Force,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Flash Fearless,
Wire,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Interpol,
X-101,
Livin' Joy,
Rotary Connection,
Soul II Soul,
Delta 5,
Jacob Miller,
The Young Rascals,
Steve Hackett,
Absolute Body Control,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Leonard Cohen,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scan 7,
Warsaw,
Ludus,
Junior Murvin,
Toni Rubio,
Marmalade,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Funky Four + One,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Blues Magoos,
John Cale,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Fire Engines,
Suicide,
Main Source,
Babytalk,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Sonics,
One Last Wish,
Nico,
PIL,
Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!.
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.