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 Peru and from Glasgow.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer 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 The Black Dice to the crunk 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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Symarip,
Lindisfarne,
Angry Samoans,
X-101,
Joey Negro,
Davy DMX,
The Divine Comedy,
Todd Terry,
Amon Düül,
The Move,
B.T. Express,
The Gladiators,
Kaleidoscope,
Pagans,
LL Cool J,
The Walker Brothers,
The Red Krayola,
Magazine,
The Slackers,
Erasure,
DNA,
James White and The Blacks,
The Fugs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
L. Decosne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lou Christie,
The Dirtbombs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jerry's Kids,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Motions,
Qualms,
Neu!,
Bauhaus,
Swell Maps,
John Coltrane,
Sarah Menescal,
Eden Ahbez,
Khruangbin,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Swans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fugazi,
Infiniti,
Y Pants,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Porter Ricks,
Max Romeo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nirvana,
Unrelated Segments,
Deadbeat,
Soft Cell,
Charles Mingus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Knickerbockers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.