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 Micronesia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba 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 Grauzone to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
The Detroit Cobras,
Theoretical Girls,
John Lydon,
Bang On A Can,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Litter,
Neu!,
Kaleidoscope,
Roxy Music,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Colin Newman,
John Cale,
Absolute Body Control,
Can,
Fad Gadget,
Matthew Bourne,
Ten City,
Smog,
Neil Young,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dual Sessions,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Doobie Brothers,
Monolake,
Nils Olav,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
New York Dolls,
Wolf Eyes,
The Red Krayola,
The Residents,
Tomorrow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Tres Demented,
Lindisfarne,
Hardrive,
Chris Corsano,
X-101,
Ice-T,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bill Near,
Joe Finger,
Talk Talk,
The J.B.'s,
the Normal,
Guru Guru,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Swell Maps,
Von Mondo,
Matthew Halsall,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jandek,
The Searchers,
The Wake,
The Misunderstood,
Audionom,
Pere Ubu,
Supertramp,
Malaria!,
Aloha Tigers,
Reuben Wilson,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.