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 Namibia and from Halifax.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Matthew Bourne to the funk 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 Soul II Soul. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Soft Cell,
Nick Fraelich,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joy Division,
Black Flag,
The Pretty Things,
the Sonics,
Groovy Waters,
Erasure,
Cymande,
Soft Machine,
Boz Scaggs,
Wally Richardson,
Oblivians,
Marvin Gaye,
Second Layer,
Warren Ellis,
Camouflage,
The Residents,
Babytalk,
The Trojans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mandrill,
Dead Boys,
Albert Ayler,
Goldenarms,
These Immortal Souls,
The Monks,
The Remains,
The Wake,
The J.B.'s,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Names,
The Doobie Brothers,
Monks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rosa Yemen,
Scrapy,
Fela Kuti,
Massinfluence,
Nas,
The Seeds,
Dave Gahan,
Gang of Four,
Surgeon,
Main Source,
Jeff Mills,
Royal Trux,
Deakin,
Max Romeo,
Juan Atkins,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
David McCallum,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Grey Daturas,
Siglo XX,
Unrelated Segments,
the Association,
JFA,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.