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 Nicaragua and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The New Christs to the techno 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 Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
H. Thieme,
Trumans Water,
Heaven 17,
Simply Red,
The Young Rascals,
Unwound,
Camberwell Now,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Tom Boy,
The Human League,
Magma,
Traffic Nightmare,
Soft Machine,
Inner City,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
a-ha,
Saccharine Trust,
Max Romeo,
Make Up,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scrapy,
Arab on Radar,
Yusef Lateef,
Ice-T,
John Coltrane,
The Selecter,
James White and The Blacks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Interpol,
Section 25,
Swell Maps,
Spandau Ballet,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kaleidoscope,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Aaron Thompson,
Piero Umiliani,
LL Cool J,
The Slackers,
Michelle Simonal,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bush Tetras,
Moebius,
X-102,
Lou Reed,
Yazoo,
Quadrant,
Junior Murvin,
Crispian St. Peters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pussy Galore,
Franke,
Barclay James Harvest,
Derrick May,
Darondo,
Wally Richardson,
Easy Going,
The Stooges,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kas Product,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.