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 Estonia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Cairo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 David Bowie to the grunge 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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Cybotron,
The Mojo Men,
Camberwell Now,
Franke,
Siglo XX,
John Coltrane,
Iggy Pop,
Supertramp,
Ossler,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joyce Sims,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Monochrome Set,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Slackers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Byron Stingily,
The Gun Club,
X-101,
DJ Sneak,
The Barracudas,
Malaria!,
R.M.O.,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cramps,
Echospace,
The Divine Comedy,
Pierre Henry,
Yellowson,
Talk Talk,
Quadrant,
Harpers Bizarre,
K-Klass,
Electric Prunes,
Index,
Rosa Yemen,
Eric Dolphy,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Doobie Brothers,
Andrew Hill,
Ludus,
Slave,
Magazine,
Jeru the Damaja,
kango's stein massive,
Letta Mbulu,
Steve Hackett,
Nils Olav,
The Angels of Light,
Metal Thangz,
The Blackbyrds,
Scratch Acid,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mad Mike,
The Raincoats,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Flipper,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.