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 Ghana and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Sonny Sharrock to the grime 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
Ludus,
The Seeds,
Con Funk Shun,
The Count Five,
Camouflage,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tubeway Army,
Index,
Skaos,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Audionom,
Byron Stingily,
John Coltrane,
Brick,
This Heat,
Wally Richardson,
Anakelly,
Gil Scott Heron,
Neil Young,
Bobby Byrd,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Pus,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eli Mardock,
The Kinks,
the Human League,
The Fortunes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Half Japanese,
Sixth Finger,
Visage,
The Moody Blues,
Pantaleimon,
John Lydon,
The Dead C,
Mandrill,
R.M.O.,
Man Eating Sloth,
Underground Resistance,
Intrusion,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hasil Adkins,
Aaron Thompson,
Q and Not U,
Fela Kuti,
Subhumans,
U.S. Maple,
Gang of Four,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Joe Smooth,
Crash Course in Science,
Shuggie Otis,
Procol Harum,
Bill Near,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flipper,
The Misunderstood,
Dave Gahan,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.