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 Egypt and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Black Moon to the rock 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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a FM Einheit record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
Radio Birdman,
cv313,
Man Parrish,
Animal Collective,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Toasters,
Sun Ra,
Sugar Minott,
Fat Boys,
Tommy Roe,
The Selecter,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Normal,
Procol Harum,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
John Lydon,
Gichy Dan,
Connie Case,
T. Rex,
David McCallum,
Jacques Brel,
The Busters,
Eric Dolphy,
The Birthday Party,
Colin Newman,
Rapeman,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Angry Samoans,
Maurizio,
Barry Ungar,
Das Ding,
Radiopuhelimet,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pulsallama,
Bronski Beat,
The Doobie Brothers,
One Last Wish,
Black Bananas,
The Stooges,
Danielle Patucci,
Monolake,
Joe Finger,
Aural Exciters,
Aaron Thompson,
Franke,
Black Moon,
Camouflage,
Dorothy Ashby,
Anthony Braxton,
Black Flag,
Piero Umiliani,
Television,
Gerry Rafferty,
Shoche,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Sonics,
Deadbeat,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Kinks,
Essential Logic,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.