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 Kenya and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rock 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Intrusion,
The Last Poets,
Ultravox,
Chrome,
Buzzcocks,
Brick,
Soft Machine,
Robert Görl,
Agitation Free,
Ludus,
Inner City,
Joyce Sims,
Donald Byrd,
Ornette Coleman,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Stooges,
Aloha Tigers,
The Tremeloes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Association,
Dawn Penn,
Lou Reed,
Black Bananas,
Chris Corsano,
Letta Mbulu,
Kaleidoscope,
Terrestrial Tones,
Goldenarms,
the Normal,
The Smiths,
The Moody Blues,
Gang Starr,
The Pop Group,
Camberwell Now,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sex Pistols,
Grauzone,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Interpol,
Ronnie Foster,
Amon Düül,
Wally Richardson,
Marine Girls,
Albert Ayler,
JFA,
Wasted Youth,
Motorama,
Q and Not U,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Leaves,
John Cale,
Gang Green,
Nirvana,
Steve Hackett,
Boredoms,
Grey Daturas,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.