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 Antigua and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar 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 Alice Coltrane to the disco 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
New Order,
T. Rex,
Tommy Roe,
The Star Department,
Warsaw,
Bill Near,
Stockholm Monsters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minny Pops,
Rufus Thomas,
Andrew Hill,
Underground Resistance,
the Association,
the Soft Cell,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marmalade,
June of 44,
Piero Umiliani,
Aloha Tigers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mary Jane Girls,
Desert Stars,
The Electric Prunes,
Deepchord,
The Busters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Y Pants,
Jawbox,
John Cale,
Gang Green,
The Golliwogs,
The Zeros,
Brand Nubian,
Marc Almond,
Bobby Byrd,
Grauzone,
The Leaves,
Bob Dylan,
E-Dancer,
Tres Demented,
Laurel Aitken,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Swans,
The Grass Roots,
Soulsonic Force,
Wally Richardson,
Pulsallama,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Janne Schatter,
These Immortal Souls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Fuzztones,
Subhumans,
Henry Cow,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Dawn Penn,
Soul Sonic Force,
Cal Tjader,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.