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 Korea South and from Bremen.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Hong Kong.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar 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 Crispian St. Peters to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Radiopuhelimet. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
kango's stein massive,
The Pretty Things,
The Last Poets,
The Martian,
Ultravox,
The Real Kids,
Eli Mardock,
Toni Rubio,
Whodini,
New York Dolls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Skaos,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
La Düsseldorf,
Symarip,
Pharoah Sanders,
Procol Harum,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Skarface,
The Wake,
Johnny Osbourne,
June Days,
Mission of Burma,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rekid,
The Barracudas,
Talk Talk,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
David McCallum,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hoover,
Supertramp,
The Detroit Cobras,
Michelle Simonal,
Easy Going,
Aaron Thompson,
Camberwell Now,
Letta Mbulu,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bobby Hutcherson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Swell Maps,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Heaven 17,
T.S.O.L.,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Move,
The Fuzztones,
Eric Copeland,
Amazonics,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ken Boothe,
Warsaw,
The Names,
Shoche,
Cal Tjader,
Nation of Ulysses,
Model 500,
Young Marble Giants,
Pantytec,
Section 25,
Bobby Byrd,
Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48.
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.