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 Kyrgyzstan and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Shanghai.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Bob Dylan to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Main Source,
T. Rex,
Gang Starr,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Massinfluence,
Eve St. Jones,
Aural Exciters,
Cymande,
The Slits,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Index,
Delon & Dalcan,
Amon Düül,
The Blues Magoos,
Young Marble Giants,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fortunes,
Suburban Knight,
The Buckinghams,
The Tremeloes,
The Fire Engines,
Yazoo,
Brick,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
EPMD,
MC5,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Busters,
Arthur Verocai,
E-Dancer,
The Star Department,
Davy DMX,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Monochrome Set,
The Flesh Eaters,
Agent Orange,
Brass Construction,
Sparks,
Television Personalities,
The Invisible,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rites of Spring,
Connie Case,
Guru Guru,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Bananas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eddi Front,
Sixth Finger,
Aaron Thompson,
Pylon,
Derrick Morgan,
The Saints,
Isaac Hayes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Scott Walker,
Cheater Slicks,
This Heat,
Traffic Nightmare,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Motorama,
Wings,
the Human League,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.