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 Bahamas and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tokyo.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Nils Olav,
Kas Product,
Outsiders,
Bluetip,
Lakeside,
Maleditus Sound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jacques Brel,
Sex Pistols,
Laurel Aitken,
The Birthday Party,
Sexual Harrassment,
Electric Light Orchestra,
ABC,
The Gap Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Coltrane,
Josef K,
The Count Five,
Erykah Badu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Robert Görl,
Derrick May,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Harpers Bizarre,
Delon & Dalcan,
Charles Mingus,
Radio Birdman,
Malaria!,
Byron Stingily,
Yellowson,
Maurizio,
Lindisfarne,
John Cale,
Dead Boys,
Sound Behaviour,
Duran Duran,
MDC,
Pylon,
Desert Stars,
Pulsallama,
Mars,
T. Rex,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gong,
Traffic Nightmare,
Goldenarms,
Grandmaster Flash,
Chris & Cosey,
Radiohead,
Mr. Review,
CMW,
Colin Newman,
The Dead C,
Von Mondo,
Blancmange,
Shoche,
The Raincoats,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.