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 Bangladesh and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 güiro 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 Angry Samoans to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Selecter,
Procol Harum,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Moleskins,
Rod Modell,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Malaria!,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Michelle Simonal,
Gichy Dan,
David Bowie,
The Last Poets,
Bill Near,
H. Thieme,
Charles Mingus,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Anakelly,
Pussy Galore,
John Coltrane,
Pantaleimon,
Gastr Del Sol,
UT,
Fela Kuti,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Kinks,
Saccharine Trust,
Joey Negro,
The Motions,
PIL,
Idris Muhammad,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bill Wells,
The Birthday Party,
Joensuu 1685,
Severed Heads,
Ossler,
Ultravox,
The Real Kids,
The Gun Club,
The Dirtbombs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Suburban Knight,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Dead C,
The Blues Magoos,
Boogie Down Productions,
Amon Düül,
Lightning Bolt,
Roger Hodgson,
Bad Manners,
MC5,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kerri Chandler,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Blossom Toes,
Mark Hollis,
The Barracudas,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Nas,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.