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 Liechtenstein and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Amon Düül 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 Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association 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 a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Toni Rubio,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nik Kershaw,
The Searchers,
Model 500,
Derrick May,
Ken Boothe,
Cecil Taylor,
Tropical Tobacco,
The New Christs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gichy Dan,
Index,
Mars,
Scion,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Arthur Verocai,
Leonard Cohen,
Reuben Wilson,
Dual Sessions,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Metal Thangz,
The Raincoats,
Connie Case,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Gories,
Interpol,
The Offenders,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gong,
Carl Craig,
Erykah Badu,
JFA,
Mr. Review,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Pretty Things,
These Immortal Souls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jeff Mills,
Yazoo,
In Retrospect,
Warren Ellis,
Sarah Menescal,
Buzzcocks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jacques Brel,
Von Mondo,
Albert Ayler,
Bush Tetras,
The Fire Engines,
Wire,
Thee Headcoats,
Pole,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.