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 Uzbekistan and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Marc Almond to the dance 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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Crooked Eye,
Tim Buckley,
Ken Boothe,
Swans,
Letta Mbulu,
Kurtis Blow,
Rotary Connection,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Glenn Branca,
Popol Vuh,
Trumans Water,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dead Boys,
Ponytail,
The Tremeloes,
Chrome,
The Names,
8 Eyed Spy,
Suburban Knight,
The Victims,
Traffic Nightmare,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Neu!,
Au Pairs,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Beau Brummels,
DJ Style,
Quantec,
Ituana,
The Birthday Party,
Black Flag,
Lyres,
Reagan Youth,
Terry Callier,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Panda Bear,
Throbbing Gristle,
Grey Daturas,
The Count Five,
The Smiths,
John Lydon,
Lindisfarne,
Smog,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Neil Young,
Livin' Joy,
This Heat,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Toasters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Moody Blues,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Selecter,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang of Four,
Hoover,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.