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 St Lucia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Sam Rivers 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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delta 5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
The Music Machine,
Swell Maps,
Barclay James Harvest,
Khruangbin,
KRS-One,
The Cure,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Livin' Joy,
Desert Stars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Skriet,
Barry Ungar,
Piero Umiliani,
These Immortal Souls,
Essential Logic,
H. Thieme,
Lakeside,
Graham Central Station,
Don Cherry,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Monks,
The Buckinghams,
Terrestrial Tones,
Visage,
Scan 7,
Johnny Clarke,
Glenn Branca,
Hasil Adkins,
Yusef Lateef,
48th St. Collective,
John Foxx,
Pussy Galore,
Gang Starr,
New Age Steppers,
Nik Kershaw,
DNA,
Gerry Rafferty,
Howard Jones,
Roy Ayers,
Flamin' Groovies,
X-Ray Spex,
Youth Brigade,
The Fire Engines,
Qualms,
The Moleskins,
Black Moon,
Warren Ellis,
OOIOO,
U.S. Maple,
Black Bananas,
ABBA,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Anthony Braxton,
The Skatalites,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Gun Club,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.