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 Kyrgyzstan and from Milan.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ 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 Smog to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
The Angels of Light,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Electric Prunes,
Harmonia,
The Cure,
The Move,
Eddi Front,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Womack,
Masters at Work,
The Seeds,
Faust,
8 Eyed Spy,
Audionom,
Slave,
The Blues Magoos,
K-Klass,
Eden Ahbez,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Vainqueur,
Little Man,
Nirvana,
Cal Tjader,
Freddie Wadling,
E-Dancer,
The Invisible,
Aaron Thompson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Das Ding,
The Monks,
Robert Görl,
Pussy Galore,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mary Jane Girls,
Peter and Kerry,
cv313,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Flamin' Groovies,
Roger Hodgson,
Bill Wells,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wally Richardson,
Amazonics,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
New Order,
Duran Duran,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scott Walker,
Nation of Ulysses,
Popol Vuh,
Idris Muhammad,
Pulsallama,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Black Dice,
Tom Boy,
Althea and Donna,
The Smoke,
Stetsasonic,
Jacques Brel,
The Techniques,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.