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 Haiti and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Moon to the rock 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Darondo,
Ornette Coleman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
John Coltrane,
Lindisfarne,
The Five Americans,
New Order,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Groovy Waters,
Joey Negro,
Ituana,
Malaria!,
Lalann,
Eric B and Rakim,
Camberwell Now,
Sun City Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
Fear,
Can,
Lakeside,
John Foxx,
Agent Orange,
Morten Harket,
the Normal,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deadbeat,
Jacques Brel,
Tears for Fears,
The Slackers,
David McCallum,
The Cure,
Arthur Verocai,
Lucky Dragons,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Porter Ricks,
The Monks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ossler,
Danielle Patucci,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mars,
Cecil Taylor,
Crispy Ambulance,
World's Most,
Nico,
Robert Görl,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Shuggie Otis,
Maurizio,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun Ra,
Don Cherry,
Gichy Dan,
Schoolly D,
Livin' Joy,
Tom Boy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cymande,
David Bowie,
The Mojo Men,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.