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 Laos and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bologna.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Eyeless In Gaza to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu 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?
Joyce Sims,
Don Cherry,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Dirtbombs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Public Enemy,
Nik Kershaw,
Agitation Free,
10cc,
DJ Style,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Urselle,
The Motions,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rekid,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fortunes,
Susan Cadogan,
Easy Going,
Fatback Band,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bush Tetras,
The Offenders,
Juan Atkins,
Kool Moe Dee,
Harmonia,
Alton Ellis,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Funkadelic,
Ornette Coleman,
Aaron Thompson,
Rod Modell,
Pantytec,
Ronan,
Kayak,
Severed Heads,
Blossom Toes,
Thee Headcoats,
The Smiths,
Soft Cell,
David Axelrod,
Faust,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Durutti Column,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Funky Four + One,
Sam Rivers,
Howard Jones,
Skarface,
Chris & Cosey,
Amazonics,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Peter and Kerry,
Ken Boothe,
Max Romeo,
Fear,
the Bar-Kays,
Jacques Brel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.