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 Slovakia 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Scrapy to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deepchord record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Scrapy,
Roxy Music,
Theoretical Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Albert Ayler,
Monolake,
U.S. Maple,
Todd Terry,
Matthew Halsall,
Kenny Larkin,
Arab on Radar,
Inner City,
OOIOO,
Depeche Mode,
Jeff Lynne,
the Normal,
The Searchers,
Freddie Wadling,
The Remains,
Scion,
Oneida,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The American Breed,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ten City,
Half Japanese,
Rekid,
Hot Snakes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Alton Ellis,
Infiniti,
The Neon Judgement,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Roxette,
Mantronix,
Tom Boy,
Basic Channel,
Colin Newman,
Tears for Fears,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Mummies,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Star Department,
Ice-T,
Cal Tjader,
Gang Starr,
The Red Krayola,
A Certain Ratio,
Letta Mbulu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Radiopuhelimet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Yusef Lateef,
Newcleus,
Stetsasonic,
Soft Machine,
The Black Dice,
Loose Ends,
The Fire Engines,
Black Pus,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.