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 Jamaica and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Copenhagen.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Archie Shepp to the punk 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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Thompson Twins,
K-Klass,
Robert Görl,
The Monks,
Shuggie Otis,
Camberwell Now,
Bush Tetras,
ABC,
Stockholm Monsters,
June Days,
Soft Machine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rod Modell,
Barry Ungar,
KRS-One,
Rekid,
Al Stewart,
Blake Baxter,
In Retrospect,
Bill Wells,
Bang On A Can,
Black Sheep,
Sonny Sharrock,
Severed Heads,
Sun Ra,
Sparks,
Eden Ahbez,
Country Teasers,
Lee Hazlewood,
These Immortal Souls,
Aaron Thompson,
Radio Birdman,
Suburban Knight,
Kayak,
Scratch Acid,
Brothers Johnson,
Neil Young,
the Slits,
Swell Maps,
Tres Demented,
The Detroit Cobras,
CMW,
The Gun Club,
Joyce Sims,
The Smiths,
Mandrill,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultravox,
Ponytail,
Pole,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nico,
Crooked Eye,
Fat Boys,
Flipper,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Rapeman,
The Pretty Things,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joey Negro,
The Knickerbockers,
Sound Behaviour,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.