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 Uganda and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime 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?
Aural Exciters,
The Motions,
Newcleus,
the Bar-Kays,
Sällskapet,
Das Ding,
Nas,
David Bowie,
The Monks,
Animal Collective,
Blossom Toes,
The Mojo Men,
Talk Talk,
Big Daddy Kane,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gang Starr,
Silicon Teens,
Arab on Radar,
Saccharine Trust,
Surgeon,
The Happenings,
Judy Mowatt,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Absolute Body Control,
Ponytail,
The Knickerbockers,
Dual Sessions,
The Blackbyrds,
Henry Cow,
Soulsonic Force,
Reagan Youth,
The Count Five,
Gong,
CMW,
Panda Bear,
Electric Prunes,
a-ha,
Avey Tare,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Von Mondo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Residents,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Real Kids,
Scientists,
B.T. Express,
Delon & Dalcan,
Little Man,
The Durutti Column,
Agent Orange,
Arthur Verocai,
Crime,
Skaos,
Mo-Dettes,
Echospace,
Todd Rundgren,
The Raincoats,
Dead Boys,
Lower 48,
Siglo XX,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Simply Red,
ABC,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.