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 Lithuania and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet 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 Sonics to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Khruangbin,
Kayak,
The Dirtbombs,
The Motions,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Raincoats,
Y Pants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Davy DMX,
Monolake,
The Real Kids,
Subhumans,
Aural Exciters,
Tim Buckley,
Frankie Knuckles,
Skriet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tomorrow,
Sällskapet,
Marcia Griffiths,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Pretty Things,
Arab on Radar,
Sonny Sharrock,
Chris & Cosey,
Loose Ends,
The Index,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rod Modell,
Pharoah Sanders,
Dual Sessions,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Duran Duran,
Smog,
Supertramp,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dead C,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gladiators,
Lyres,
Johnny Clarke,
Dave Gahan,
Grauzone,
Ken Boothe,
Excepter,
Pussy Galore,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lindisfarne,
The Martian,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mr. Review,
The Red Krayola,
U.S. Maple,
Surgeon,
Aswad,
Cybotron,
F. McDonald,
Henry Cow,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Monochrome Set,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.