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 Iraq and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 guitar 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 Hot Snakes to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Gong,
Sex Pistols,
Peter & Gordon,
Archie Shepp,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Camberwell Now,
Byron Stingily,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Glenn Branca,
The Sonics,
Gang Starr,
ABC,
La Düsseldorf,
The Toasters,
Rites of Spring,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Stockholm Monsters,
Chris Corsano,
Mary Jane Girls,
Flash Fearless,
Mr. Review,
Freddie Wadling,
the Soft Cell,
The Vogues,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minnie Riperton,
Roxy Music,
Donny Hathaway,
Crime,
T.S.O.L.,
Deepchord,
Nirvana,
Minny Pops,
Graham Central Station,
The Trojans,
Sandy B,
Aloha Tigers,
Ronan,
Surgeon,
David Bowie,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Angels of Light,
Television Personalities,
David Axelrod,
Second Layer,
Todd Rundgren,
Dual Sessions,
Malaria!,
Ralphi Rosario,
Royal Trux,
T. Rex,
Quadrant,
Metal Thangz,
Yaz,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Smiths,
Curtis Mayfield,
Scion,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.