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 Pakistan and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the snare 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 Lee Hazlewood to the funk 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cosmic Jokers 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
The Fugs,
Marmalade,
Warsaw,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Interpol,
New York Dolls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Soul Sonic Force,
Technova,
Nick Fraelich,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cowsills,
Blossom Toes,
Scientists,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Howard Jones,
Alice Coltrane,
Marvin Gaye,
Lyres,
Drexciya,
Arab on Radar,
Bush Tetras,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Alphaville,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Gladiators,
Von Mondo,
Magma,
Michelle Simonal,
Cecil Taylor,
John Holt,
Pylon,
Scan 7,
The Doors,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Leonard Cohen,
Mo-Dettes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Happenings,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Delon & Dalcan,
Archie Shepp,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jimmy McGriff,
Matthew Bourne,
Aswad,
The Human League,
The Gun Club,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Doobie Brothers,
AZ,
Pantaleimon,
Grandmaster Flash,
FM Einheit,
The Evens,
Joensuu 1685,
The Pretty Things,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.