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 Brunei and from Edmonton.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 organ 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 Gil Scott Heron to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Supertramp,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fugs,
Roger Hodgson,
Darondo,
Aural Exciters,
Franke,
Wings,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lyres,
Television Personalities,
Leonard Cohen,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Das Ding,
The Star Department,
Connie Case,
Fat Boys,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fortunes,
Anakelly,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Clear Light,
T. Rex,
Underground Resistance,
Junior Murvin,
48th St. Collective,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Standells,
Sonny Sharrock,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tubeway Army,
Ice-T,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Shadows of Knight,
Camberwell Now,
Surgeon,
The Smiths,
Shuggie Otis,
Agent Orange,
Talk Talk,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Blues Magoos,
Lakeside,
Quantec,
Fad Gadget,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lalann,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Grey Daturas,
Q65,
Mars,
Sister Nancy,
The Dead C,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Alphaville,
X-Ray Spex,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sun Ra,
Tom Boy,
Ultra Naté,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.