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 Colombia and from New York.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Amon Düül II to the rock 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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hardrive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover 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?
Black Pus,
The Count Five,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Searchers,
Isaac Hayes,
Thompson Twins,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Popol Vuh,
Mo-Dettes,
Fat Boys,
The Monks,
Grauzone,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Siglo XX,
Second Layer,
The Gun Club,
JFA,
Roger Hodgson,
Boz Scaggs,
The Smiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Heaven 17,
Newcleus,
MDC,
Nas,
Dark Day,
Television,
Barbara Tucker,
Franke,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Brass Construction,
Magma,
Minutemen,
The Flesh Eaters,
Technova,
Moby Grape,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Clear Light,
Traffic Nightmare,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Offenders,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tubeway Army,
Lucky Dragons,
Colin Newman,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Underground Resistance,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Donald Byrd,
Crash Course in Science,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jeru the Damaja,
David Axelrod,
Bauhaus,
Ultravox,
The Beau Brummels,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.