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 Bhutan and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 F. McDonald to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Gang Starr,
Byron Stingily,
The Sound,
Amon Düül II,
Vainqueur,
Mandrill,
Rapeman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Velvet Underground,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Gang Green,
Leonard Cohen,
The Stooges,
Depeche Mode,
Sandy B,
The Last Poets,
The Raincoats,
Ossler,
Y Pants,
Minor Threat,
R.M.O.,
Cameo,
Sarah Menescal,
Newcleus,
The Searchers,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Monochrome Set,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Brick,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Susan Cadogan,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Fire Engines,
Nirvana,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Derrick May,
Sound Behaviour,
F. McDonald,
World's Most,
Loose Ends,
8 Eyed Spy,
Boredoms,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Human League,
Cybotron,
The New Christs,
New Order,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eddi Front,
Stiv Bators,
Jeff Mills,
Kayak,
The Cure,
Mr. Review,
Pussy Galore,
Angry Samoans,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Real Kids,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.