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 South Sudan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Byron Stingily to the jazz 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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
Robert Görl,
Judy Mowatt,
Idris Muhammad,
Royal Trux,
Pierre Henry,
Cybotron,
Maurizio,
Soft Machine,
Youth Brigade,
Hashim,
The Knickerbockers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wasted Youth,
Porter Ricks,
Bluetip,
Man Parrish,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The United States of America,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
10cc,
D'Angelo,
Fela Kuti,
Agitation Free,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Eli Mardock,
Tim Buckley,
Bobby Womack,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ronan,
Liliput,
Carl Craig,
Sugar Minott,
Crispian St. Peters,
Harmonia,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Mary Jane Girls,
Supertramp,
Dead Boys,
David McCallum,
The Human League,
Colin Newman,
Tommy Roe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Normal,
Ponytail,
Bootsy Collins,
Ohio Players,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Procol Harum,
Swell Maps,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lou Christie,
The Litter,
Roger Hodgson,
Chris Corsano,
L. Decosne,
Von Mondo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Skriet,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.