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 Swaziland and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Holger Czukay 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 Swell Maps to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rotary Connection record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
John Coltrane,
Hasil Adkins,
The Saints,
Liliput,
Rites of Spring,
Joensuu 1685,
This Heat,
John Foxx,
Graham Central Station,
Erykah Badu,
The Motions,
Mission of Burma,
Black Sheep,
PIL,
X-101,
Drexciya,
Jeff Lynne,
Can,
Iggy Pop,
Gang Green,
F. McDonald,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Man Parrish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
T.S.O.L.,
Eric Dolphy,
The Gun Club,
Television,
Stiv Bators,
The Happenings,
Prince Buster,
Gregory Isaacs,
Minutemen,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Kinks,
Idris Muhammad,
Robert Wyatt,
K-Klass,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Black Moon,
Roger Hodgson,
Bush Tetras,
Main Source,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Janne Schatter,
Patti Smith,
the Soft Cell,
Zero Boys,
Reagan Youth,
Cal Tjader,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Electric Prunes,
Peter & Gordon,
Qualms,
The United States of America,
Soulsonic Force,
Albert Ayler,
Brick,
The Walker Brothers,
Desert Stars,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.