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 Madagascar and from London.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Cabaret Voltaire to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tres Demented,
Intrusion,
Jawbox,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
X-102,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gories,
Kurtis Blow,
The Fugs,
Rosa Yemen,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sonic Youth,
F. McDonald,
Bill Near,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jeff Lynne,
Section 25,
Black Sheep,
John Lydon,
Pussy Galore,
Sixth Finger,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
X-101,
Scion,
Piero Umiliani,
John Coltrane,
Index,
the Human League,
The Moleskins,
Maurizio,
Fear,
Mr. Review,
The Tremeloes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nik Kershaw,
Mission of Burma,
The Human League,
The Golliwogs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The J.B.'s,
T. Rex,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Matthew Halsall,
Babytalk,
Main Source,
Nas,
Archie Shepp,
Q and Not U,
EPMD,
Cal Tjader,
Dawn Penn,
Lyres,
The Last Poets,
KRS-One,
Panda Bear,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Beau Brummels,
Gichy Dan,
Donald Byrd,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.