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 Cape Verde and from Stockholm.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Beijing.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Blues Magoos to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Larry & the Blue Notes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
Sixth Finger,
Scrapy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mission of Burma,
The Barracudas,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Flag,
These Immortal Souls,
Magazine,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Japan,
Mark Hollis,
The Toasters,
Moby Grape,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fear,
Dave Gahan,
Section 25,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Unwound,
The Zeros,
Ken Boothe,
Khruangbin,
June of 44,
Tres Demented,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Toni Rubio,
Nas,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Germs,
Sex Pistols,
John Holt,
Electric Prunes,
Cheater Slicks,
Groovy Waters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jawbox,
Harry Pussy,
Cybotron,
Tubeway Army,
Yaz,
The Blackbyrds,
World's Most,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marine Girls,
Aaron Thompson,
Soft Machine,
The Black Dice,
Masters at Work,
Bobby Womack,
Magma,
Lindisfarne,
Malaria!,
Fat Boys,
The Index,
Bill Wells,
Gang Gang Dance,
Harmonia,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.