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 Haiti and from Sao Paulo.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Columbus.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar 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 Roxy Music to the electroclash 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Arthur Verocai,
Max Romeo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eric B and Rakim,
Masters at Work,
Jandek,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
B.T. Express,
Marvin Gaye,
Marc Almond,
Infiniti,
Young Marble Giants,
Wasted Youth,
The Pretty Things,
World's Most,
Smog,
the Germs,
Marmalade,
Massinfluence,
Theoretical Girls,
Tommy Roe,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bobbi Humphrey,
John Cale,
Thompson Twins,
Dual Sessions,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sexual Harrassment,
DNA,
Eve St. Jones,
R.M.O.,
Bill Near,
The Techniques,
Lee Hazlewood,
Roy Ayers,
Bush Tetras,
Country Teasers,
Morten Harket,
48th St. Collective,
Das Ding,
Kas Product,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Invisible,
Swell Maps,
Con Funk Shun,
Roxy Music,
Qualms,
Chris Corsano,
K-Klass,
CMW,
Fatback Band,
Hoover,
Tubeway Army,
John Lydon,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Sherman,
Magma,
Rakim,
Technova,
Skaos,
Freddie Wadling,
Soul II Soul,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.