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 Korea South and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Black Sheep to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lakeside record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
The Dead C,
Letta Mbulu,
New York Dolls,
Chrome,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Durutti Column,
Faraquet,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Move,
The Blues Magoos,
Rod Modell,
The Dave Clark Five,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
This Heat,
Accadde A,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Evens,
X-101,
Ash Ra Tempel,
David Bowie,
Black Sheep,
Make Up,
The Stooges,
Chris & Cosey,
Jimmy McGriff,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Minutemen,
Subhumans,
Smog,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cymande,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
Albert Ayler,
John Cale,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Normal,
Bad Manners,
Dark Day,
Ten City,
Television,
Crispian St. Peters,
Swans,
Sam Rivers,
Depeche Mode,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Parry Music,
Prince Buster,
Lebanon Hanover,
F. McDonald,
Slave,
Skarface,
The Fuzztones,
Black Bananas,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Blackbyrds,
Los Fastidios,
Jeff Lynne,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The J.B.'s,
Boredoms,
Charles Mingus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.