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 Antigua and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 guitar 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 Lindisfarne to the crunk 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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shuggie Otis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harry Pussy,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang Starr,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Barbara Tucker,
Bronski Beat,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Yusef Lateef,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crooked Eye,
The Beau Brummels,
Isaac Hayes,
MC5,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Pus,
Suicide,
Pere Ubu,
Saccharine Trust,
The Motions,
Juan Atkins,
Grauzone,
Model 500,
Adolescents,
Yellowson,
Gang Green,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Fall,
Dark Day,
Eli Mardock,
Electric Prunes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
kango's stein massive,
UT,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thompson Twins,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Main Source,
June of 44,
Monolake,
The Blues Magoos,
Derrick Morgan,
Jeff Lynne,
Mars,
Mission of Burma,
Dorothy Ashby,
Flash Fearless,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marvin Gaye,
U.S. Maple,
Outsiders,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Peter and Kerry,
Jawbox,
Amon Düül,
Darondo,
Joyce Sims,
Dawn Penn,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.