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 Malaysia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 The Star Department to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Monks,
H. Thieme,
Donny Hathaway,
Bauhaus,
KRS-One,
Man Parrish,
Q65,
One Last Wish,
Eddi Front,
Sandy B,
Wire,
The Beau Brummels,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lungfish,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jacob Miller,
Throbbing Gristle,
Au Pairs,
Amazonics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pagans,
the Sonics,
June Days,
The Mummies,
Rod Modell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mantronix,
Sarah Menescal,
Wally Richardson,
Sam Rivers,
Archie Shepp,
The Victims,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
John Lydon,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ten City,
Interpol,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Magma,
Roy Ayers,
Urselle,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kevin Saunderson,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mission of Burma,
The Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
Q and Not U,
Rites of Spring,
The Leaves,
Loose Ends,
Gabor Szabo,
June of 44,
Sun City Girls,
Skriet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.