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 Nigeria and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 T. Rex to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Real Kids,
The Smoke,
Swans,
Grauzone,
Half Japanese,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pet Shop Boys,
The New Christs,
B.T. Express,
New York Dolls,
Ronnie Foster,
The United States of America,
Cal Tjader,
The Litter,
The Selecter,
Bang On A Can,
Zapp,
Jandek,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lou Christie,
Blossom Toes,
The Fire Engines,
Oblivians,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Quando Quango,
Eric Copeland,
Crispy Ambulance,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
48th St. Collective,
Aswad,
The Seeds,
Danielle Patucci,
Lungfish,
Crash Course in Science,
Barbara Tucker,
John Lydon,
Archie Shepp,
Crooked Eye,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ultravox,
Terry Callier,
Young Marble Giants,
John Coltrane,
kango's stein massive,
Subhumans,
John Cale,
Quantec,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Funkadelic,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Erykah Badu,
Janne Schatter,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Yusef Lateef,
Accadde A,
E-Dancer,
Flash Fearless,
Mark Hollis,
Colin Newman,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.