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 Portugal and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 linndrum 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 Marine Girls to the rock 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
June of 44,
Kayak,
Radio Birdman,
Tom Boy,
Cluster,
Joensuu 1685,
Cymande,
Gang Starr,
Althea and Donna,
Robert Görl,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Association,
Marine Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
New Age Steppers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ten City,
Cybotron,
MDC,
Essential Logic,
Chris Corsano,
The Neon Judgement,
R.M.O.,
Schoolly D,
Archie Shepp,
Pere Ubu,
The Zeros,
The Trojans,
The Cramps,
Bad Manners,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gang Green,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Fuzztones,
Groovy Waters,
Rotary Connection,
Delta 5,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Grass Roots,
Minutemen,
Flash Fearless,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Motorama,
Morten Harket,
Bobby Womack,
Neil Young,
Tubeway Army,
Grauzone,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Gladiators,
Anakelly,
Drexciya,
Stockholm Monsters,
ABBA,
Fatback Band,
The Leaves,
Banda Bassotti,
Rhythm & Sound,
Public Enemy,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.