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 Bangladesh and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 snare 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 Barclay James Harvest to the grunge 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kas Product record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
The Litter,
Groovy Waters,
June of 44,
Heaven 17,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Moleskins,
Darondo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Harmonia,
Albert Ayler,
Idris Muhammad,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ponytail,
Monks,
Mission of Burma,
Lower 48,
The Knickerbockers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fugazi,
The Black Dice,
Make Up,
Chrome,
Lakeside,
Delta 5,
John Lydon,
Eyeless In Gaza,
World's Most,
The Sonics,
Warren Ellis,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Das Ding,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
A Flock of Seagulls,
kango's stein massive,
Eve St. Jones,
The United States of America,
Q65,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Index,
The Alarm Clocks,
Swell Maps,
Rapeman,
Toni Rubio,
Trumans Water,
Soft Cell,
Bill Near,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Sheep,
Bobby Womack,
Negative Approach,
Sandy B,
Loose Ends,
The Raincoats,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Suburban Knight,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grey Daturas,
Lou Christie,
X-Ray Spex,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.