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 Burkina and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Boz Scaggs to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Suburban Knight,
Steve Hackett,
Ultimate Spinach,
DJ Sneak,
Niagra,
Eden Ahbez,
MC5,
Kayak,
Lalann,
X-101,
Amon Düül II,
Derrick May,
Tropical Tobacco,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Pretty Things,
Mark Hollis,
Matthew Halsall,
Nas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Q and Not U,
Severed Heads,
Fluxion,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Thee Headcoats,
Schoolly D,
The Five Americans,
Easy Going,
The Moleskins,
Mandrill,
Boz Scaggs,
Bronski Beat,
The Blackbyrds,
Piero Umiliani,
Camouflage,
Kas Product,
The Motions,
Barbara Tucker,
Nils Olav,
Dawn Penn,
Agent Orange,
David Axelrod,
Jandek,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Grey Daturas,
Hashim,
U.S. Maple,
Subhumans,
Section 25,
In Retrospect,
Ludus,
Average White Band,
B.T. Express,
The Slackers,
Tubeway Army,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Techniques,
Kool Moe Dee,
Faraquet,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.