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 Samoa and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 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 Cecil Taylor to the electroclash 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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anakelly 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Skarface,
Blancmange,
Arcadia,
Khruangbin,
Girls At Our Best!,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Bar-Kays,
Rufus Thomas,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Drexciya,
Steve Hackett,
Hoover,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Iggy Pop,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lucky Dragons,
Black Pus,
Nils Olav,
Audionom,
Lungfish,
Moebius,
The Slackers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Isaac Hayes,
The Velvet Underground,
Public Enemy,
Y Pants,
Archie Shepp,
Henry Cow,
T. Rex,
Susan Cadogan,
Wire,
The Searchers,
Amon Düül II,
Howard Jones,
The Mojo Men,
the Human League,
Sister Nancy,
Lalo Schifrin,
E-Dancer,
Toni Rubio,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Stooges,
The Happenings,
Godley & Creme,
Television,
Nik Kershaw,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Robert Hood,
Kerri Chandler,
David McCallum,
Fat Boys,
Symarip,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Monochrome Set,
Severed Heads,
Patti Smith,
Minutemen,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.