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 Grenada and from Portland.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Graham Central Station to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
T. Rex,
Nirvana,
JFA,
Carl Craig,
Fat Boys,
Saccharine Trust,
Albert Ayler,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sex Pistols,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
F. McDonald,
The Trojans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
CMW,
the Slits,
Janne Schatter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Make Up,
Roxy Music,
Marmalade,
Ohio Players,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bob Dylan,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Velvet Underground,
Unwound,
The Fortunes,
Liliput,
Grey Daturas,
Rites of Spring,
Scratch Acid,
The Gun Club,
Agitation Free,
the Normal,
Cal Tjader,
the Swans,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rakim,
Derrick May,
Alphaville,
Aural Exciters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pylon,
Ice-T,
Unrelated Segments,
Jacques Brel,
Bronski Beat,
Deadbeat,
The Tremeloes,
Mars,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Sheep,
Hashim,
Smog,
Roger Hodgson,
Pierre Henry,
Rosa Yemen,
Gichy Dan,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.