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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Glasgow.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scrapy to the crunk 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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kaleidoscope record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Second Layer,
Cheater Slicks,
Swans,
Pere Ubu,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bobby Womack,
ABC,
Can,
Dawn Penn,
Simply Red,
The Remains,
Motorama,
Moby Grape,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Sonics,
Interpol,
Qualms,
Q65,
Andrew Hill,
Black Sheep,
Make Up,
The Young Rascals,
Black Flag,
Rakim,
Ronnie Foster,
Roxette,
Moebius,
Spoonie Gee,
Judy Mowatt,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Barbara Tucker,
Lindisfarne,
Nils Olav,
Schoolly D,
Amon Düül II,
June Days,
Funkadelic,
The Misunderstood,
UT,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Minor Threat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Radiohead,
Freddie Wadling,
Minutemen,
Soul II Soul,
The Neon Judgement,
Bill Wells,
Bill Near,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Chrome,
Amon Düül,
Godley & Creme,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Audionom,
Dark Day,
Sam Rivers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.