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 Norway and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Radio Birdman to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Bluetip,
Slick Rick,
Mad Mike,
The Tremeloes,
Faust,
Main Source,
The New Christs,
Cymande,
Soulsonic Force,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blake Baxter,
The Five Americans,
Franke,
The Buckinghams,
Underground Resistance,
the Slits,
Danielle Patucci,
Minny Pops,
Rapeman,
Minor Threat,
New York Dolls,
Minnie Riperton,
JFA,
Mr. Review,
Black Sheep,
Marvin Gaye,
F. McDonald,
Soul II Soul,
Minutemen,
Wings,
Fear,
Man Eating Sloth,
Youth Brigade,
Scratch Acid,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Swans,
John Lydon,
The Walker Brothers,
Crooked Eye,
Boogie Down Productions,
Motorama,
Bang On A Can,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sparks,
The Slackers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Stiv Bators,
Saccharine Trust,
Eve St. Jones,
Kas Product,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bill Wells,
Johnny Clarke,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gabor Szabo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lalann,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.