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 Ethiopia and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 chamberlin 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 Sexual Harrassment to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mantronix. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Barbara Tucker,
Bluetip,
The Offenders,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Monolake,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lightning Bolt,
Ponytail,
Donald Byrd,
The J.B.'s,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kenny Larkin,
James Chance & The Contortions,
a-ha,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bobby Womack,
Roxy Music,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Joe Finger,
Sandy B,
Schoolly D,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Buzzcocks,
Young Marble Giants,
Crash Course in Science,
Terrestrial Tones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Circle Jerks,
Ronan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Moleskins,
Q and Not U,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Neil Young,
Gang Green,
Aaron Thompson,
Freddie Wadling,
MC5,
Joe Smooth,
Nirvana,
Mandrill,
The Remains,
The Velvet Underground,
The Skatalites,
Ludus,
Peter and Kerry,
Sparks,
Al Stewart,
Boredoms,
Faust,
Patti Smith,
JFA,
Morten Harket,
Alice Coltrane,
The Birthday Party,
The Sonics,
Avey Tare,
Swell Maps,
Stetsasonic,
Robert Wyatt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.