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 Belarus and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marmalade to the grime 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry 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?
Steve Hackett,
Television Personalities,
Funkadelic,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Subhumans,
Sex Pistols,
The Human League,
Donald Byrd,
Interpol,
the Germs,
Arab on Radar,
These Immortal Souls,
Jeff Lynne,
Altered Images,
Adolescents,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lalann,
Das Ding,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Amazonics,
Sparks,
Rosa Yemen,
Suicide,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Girls At Our Best!,
Goldenarms,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mr. Review,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jimmy McGriff,
June Days,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ludus,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Monks,
The Victims,
The Seeds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Buzzcocks,
Von Mondo,
The Pretty Things,
Kerrie Biddell,
Maleditus Sound,
Sixth Finger,
The Sound,
Agent Orange,
Tomorrow,
The Raincoats,
Brand Nubian,
Warren Ellis,
James White and The Blacks,
Jacques Brel,
Jandek,
Blake Baxter,
The Gap Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
L. Decosne,
Spandau Ballet,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.