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 Brunei and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Golliwogs to the rock 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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Kayak,
48th St. Collective,
Slave,
Unrelated Segments,
Crime,
Matthew Halsall,
Junior Murvin,
The Index,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ice-T,
Brothers Johnson,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Last Poets,
Soul II Soul,
Archie Shepp,
The Associates,
Man Parrish,
Smog,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roger Hodgson,
Country Teasers,
Oneida,
The Stooges,
The American Breed,
Nick Fraelich,
Tim Buckley,
Goldenarms,
Stetsasonic,
Echospace,
The Monochrome Set,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ronan,
Skarface,
Second Layer,
Radio Birdman,
Model 500,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Funkadelic,
The Fortunes,
The Beau Brummels,
Piero Umiliani,
Absolute Body Control,
Underground Resistance,
The Skatalites,
The Pretty Things,
Infiniti,
The Busters,
Boredoms,
Flipper,
The Monks,
Main Source,
Mark Hollis,
Ituana,
Al Stewart,
Depeche Mode,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Swans,
Alphaville,
The Knickerbockers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Audionom,
Kerri Chandler,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.