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 Algeria and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Residents to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
Infiniti,
The Associates,
Alice Coltrane,
Make Up,
Jandek,
Flash Fearless,
Visage,
The Five Americans,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Soft Cell,
Jacques Brel,
Animal Collective,
Robert Hood,
Lyres,
Peter and Kerry,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sarah Menescal,
John Holt,
The Knickerbockers,
Thee Headcoats,
Average White Band,
The Fortunes,
Thompson Twins,
The Gories,
Monks,
Wasted Youth,
Gang Green,
Johnny Clarke,
Inner City,
Scott Walker,
Fat Boys,
Pussy Galore,
Suburban Knight,
Urselle,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rosa Yemen,
The Names,
Ronan,
David Bowie,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sugar Minott,
Sonny Sharrock,
Talk Talk,
H. Thieme,
Johnny Osbourne,
Interpol,
Basic Channel,
The Walker Brothers,
June Days,
U.S. Maple,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Organ,
Barbara Tucker,
the Sonics,
Mo-Dettes,
Spandau Ballet,
The Standells,
Tomorrow,
Circle Jerks,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.