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 Panama and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Tommy Roe to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Lou Christie,
The Evens,
Hashim,
Dead Boys,
Arthur Verocai,
Sex Pistols,
Roxette,
Grauzone,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sugar Minott,
The Grass Roots,
Swans,
The Dirtbombs,
Radio Birdman,
Funkadelic,
Steve Hackett,
The Birthday Party,
F. McDonald,
Sandy B,
Deakin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Trojans,
Pere Ubu,
Urselle,
Moebius,
The Stooges,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Remains,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gong,
Brick,
T.S.O.L.,
Gerry Rafferty,
John Coltrane,
Von Mondo,
Jeff Lynne,
Essential Logic,
Dual Sessions,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Scientists,
Skarface,
The Gladiators,
Underground Resistance,
The New Christs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Blossom Toes,
Television,
Scrapy,
Wally Richardson,
Unwound,
June Days,
Scott Walker,
Vainqueur,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pole,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nas,
Kas Product,
Franke,
Saccharine Trust,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.