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 Bulgaria and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Albert Ayler to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Lalann,
Blossom Toes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lyres,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tropical Tobacco,
Yellowson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
This Heat,
Amon Düül,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Unwound,
Sight & Sound,
The Electric Prunes,
H. Thieme,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bush Tetras,
Easy Going,
Man Parrish,
Aswad,
Dennis Brown,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Brick,
Roy Ayers,
The Monochrome Set,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Red Krayola,
U.S. Maple,
Sonic Youth,
Trumans Water,
Adolescents,
Whodini,
Freddie Wadling,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dawn Penn,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Magma,
Sam Rivers,
Dark Day,
Aaron Thompson,
Siglo XX,
Soft Cell,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Tim Buckley,
Chrome,
Barbara Tucker,
Eve St. Jones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nils Olav,
Dead Boys,
New York Dolls,
Tears for Fears,
Accadde A,
The Standells,
Blancmange,
Soul II Soul,
The Wake,
Unrelated Segments,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Neon Judgement,
Big Daddy Kane,
Robert Wyatt,
Clear Light,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.