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 Tuvalu and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin 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 Charles Mingus to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Japan. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
L. Decosne,
The Angels of Light,
Tommy Roe,
The Smiths,
The Electric Prunes,
Eurythmics,
Robert Görl,
Moby Grape,
Kayak,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Martian,
Skaos,
Lou Christie,
Roxette,
Sandy B,
Ultra Naté,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gang of Four,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Index,
Dawn Penn,
Stiv Bators,
Amon Düül II,
Don Cherry,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Dave Clark Five,
Chris & Cosey,
Lyres,
Davy DMX,
Y Pants,
Black Bananas,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Man Parrish,
Iggy Pop,
Wally Richardson,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gap Band,
The Fortunes,
Lucky Dragons,
Guru Guru,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Leaves,
Charles Mingus,
Delta 5,
Lightning Bolt,
Max Romeo,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Sheep,
Bang On A Can,
U.S. Maple,
Eve St. Jones,
Aaron Thompson,
The Blues Magoos,
The Pop Group,
Maurizio,
Los Fastidios,
The United States of America,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Echospace,
Albert Ayler,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.