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 Kyrgyzstan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 American Breed to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Johnny Clarke,
Robert Hood,
The Human League,
The Saints,
Alice Coltrane,
Lucky Dragons,
The Evens,
Sexual Harrassment,
Intrusion,
Hardrive,
Boredoms,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Darondo,
D'Angelo,
Lungfish,
Byron Stingily,
Von Mondo,
Con Funk Shun,
Angry Samoans,
Letta Mbulu,
Lindisfarne,
In Retrospect,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Star Department,
UT,
Eric Dolphy,
Adolescents,
The Music Machine,
Animal Collective,
Pulsallama,
Tim Buckley,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lightning Bolt,
Symarip,
the Swans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Robert Görl,
The Count Five,
Lower 48,
The Gap Band,
Circle Jerks,
Hasil Adkins,
DJ Style,
Jeff Mills,
Barry Ungar,
Black Bananas,
Qualms,
Jacob Miller,
Talk Talk,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Whodini,
Mark Hollis,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eden Ahbez,
Ituana,
the Germs,
Technova,
Liliput,
Ultra Naté,
Neil Young,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.