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 London.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pussy Galore to the jazz 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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sun Ra,
The Fugs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eli Mardock,
Marmalade,
Man Eating Sloth,
Skriet,
Shoche,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Boz Scaggs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Y Pants,
Agitation Free,
The Electric Prunes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Massinfluence,
Adolescents,
Kenny Larkin,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Roxy Music,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Icehouse,
Donald Byrd,
Panda Bear,
The Motions,
Aural Exciters,
The Cramps,
The Young Rascals,
Rod Modell,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Byrd,
Roy Ayers,
Eve St. Jones,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lakeside,
Ten City,
Severed Heads,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Connie Case,
Pere Ubu,
Cheater Slicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Wake,
The Blues Magoos,
Mo-Dettes,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Neon Judgement,
Pussy Galore,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Star Department,
Qualms,
Quadrant,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Grauzone,
In Retrospect,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.