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 Equatorial Guinea and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 rhodes 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tim Buckley record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Newcleus,
Desert Stars,
Cluster,
Scott Walker,
Electric Prunes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Wolf Eyes,
Quantec,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Man Parrish,
K-Klass,
Niagra,
Wally Richardson,
Minnie Riperton,
The Vogues,
Byron Stingily,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eve St. Jones,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Vladislav Delay,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bill Wells,
Fat Boys,
Television Personalities,
Soft Cell,
Barrington Levy,
Matthew Halsall,
Quando Quango,
a-ha,
Joe Finger,
The Fugs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wasted Youth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cybotron,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Faraquet,
The United States of America,
Nick Fraelich,
Kerrie Biddell,
Slick Rick,
Frankie Knuckles,
EPMD,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
ABBA,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Music Machine,
Al Stewart,
Delon & Dalcan,
Swans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Arthur Verocai,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Laurel Aitken,
Suburban Knight,
The Slits,
Girls At Our Best!,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.