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 Hungary and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Byron Stingily to the dance 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Magma,
The Names,
the Germs,
Mandrill,
Lou Christie,
Rod Modell,
Toni Rubio,
the Normal,
Bush Tetras,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Khruangbin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Barracudas,
The Wake,
Kayak,
Henry Cow,
Half Japanese,
Severed Heads,
Crash Course in Science,
cv313,
These Immortal Souls,
Ken Boothe,
Au Pairs,
Spoonie Gee,
Dual Sessions,
Bootsy Collins,
Pantaleimon,
Bang On A Can,
the Bar-Kays,
The Techniques,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Slick Rick,
Schoolly D,
Lalo Schifrin,
Saccharine Trust,
Radiopuhelimet,
The New Christs,
Jeff Mills,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
FM Einheit,
Lightning Bolt,
Sonny Sharrock,
Duran Duran,
Andrew Hill,
Lebanon Hanover,
Swell Maps,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Graham Central Station,
Blancmange,
Grauzone,
Section 25,
John Lydon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
New Age Steppers,
Derrick May,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Avey Tare,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.