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 Eritrea and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Skatalites to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Godley & Creme. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
The Knickerbockers,
The Real Kids,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lee Hazlewood,
R.M.O.,
Franke,
Idris Muhammad,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marc Almond,
The Motions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Terry Callier,
Alton Ellis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Byron Stingily,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Amon Düül II,
Supertramp,
Donny Hathaway,
New Order,
DJ Sneak,
Kool Moe Dee,
Suburban Knight,
B.T. Express,
Aloha Tigers,
Soft Cell,
Reuben Wilson,
Cheater Slicks,
Jacques Brel,
Khruangbin,
Das Ding,
Monolake,
Symarip,
The Doors,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Byrd,
L. Decosne,
Crash Course in Science,
Nick Fraelich,
The Blackbyrds,
Black Pus,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pole,
Bronski Beat,
The Dirtbombs,
This Heat,
Desert Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
The Velvet Underground,
Sonic Youth,
The Tremeloes,
The Standells,
The Walker Brothers,
Von Mondo,
Sound Behaviour,
Ronnie Foster,
The Pop Group,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Matthew Bourne,
Young Marble Giants,
ABC,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.