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 Angola and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Blossom Toes to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators 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 '70s 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 Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Oneida,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Seeds,
cv313,
Electric Prunes,
The Move,
The Star Department,
Yellowson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Funky Four + One,
Altered Images,
Ten City,
Lalann,
Kerri Chandler,
The Music Machine,
Andrew Hill,
Carl Craig,
The Residents,
Sex Pistols,
Wally Richardson,
Shoche,
Sonny Sharrock,
Camouflage,
Byron Stingily,
Mad Mike,
Black Bananas,
Rod Modell,
Rakim,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Hoover,
Black Pus,
The Grass Roots,
Lindisfarne,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mission of Burma,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nirvana,
Albert Ayler,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Remains,
Saccharine Trust,
Organ,
The Human League,
The Doobie Brothers,
Brick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eric Dolphy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
DNA,
F. McDonald,
Moebius,
Kas Product,
Eden Ahbez,
Desert Stars,
Lebanon Hanover,
Thompson Twins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Darondo,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.