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 Egypt and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
The Fortunes,
Porter Ricks,
The Angels of Light,
Chris Corsano,
Spandau Ballet,
Byron Stingily,
Scrapy,
Jacob Miller,
Isaac Hayes,
Tommy Roe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Anakelly,
Steve Hackett,
Liliput,
The Motions,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Fugs,
Funky Four + One,
The Toasters,
cv313,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Tremeloes,
Boredoms,
Deakin,
Scratch Acid,
Faust,
Guru Guru,
Q and Not U,
Ultimate Spinach,
Minny Pops,
Gang Green,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Holt,
Roxy Music,
Archie Shepp,
Junior Murvin,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Siglo XX,
Maleditus Sound,
Camouflage,
Alice Coltrane,
Gang of Four,
Bang On A Can,
Sight & Sound,
Al Stewart,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marine Girls,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Bar-Kays,
Stiv Bators,
Rekid,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
John Foxx,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.