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 Venezuela and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Johannesburg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Banda Bassotti to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
The Walker Brothers,
Donald Byrd,
Swell Maps,
The Divine Comedy,
Erasure,
Monks,
The Fugs,
Thompson Twins,
the Human League,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hot Snakes,
Neil Young,
Eve St. Jones,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fad Gadget,
Black Pus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Beau Brummels,
Agent Orange,
The Star Department,
Pierre Henry,
Jerry's Kids,
The Knickerbockers,
Section 25,
Simply Red,
D'Angelo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
UT,
Alphaville,
Pantaleimon,
ABC,
The Last Poets,
Gabor Szabo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Au Pairs,
Fat Boys,
Babytalk,
Sex Pistols,
Cybotron,
The Sonics,
Dead Boys,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bob Dylan,
Wire,
Mars,
Anthony Braxton,
Peter & Gordon,
The Young Rascals,
The New Christs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Amon Düül,
Grauzone,
Crime,
Susan Cadogan,
Slick Rick,
the Fania All-Stars,
Surgeon,
Kayak,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.