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 Norway and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 David Axelrod to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
Davy DMX,
kango's stein massive,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Moody Blues,
Roger Hodgson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Iggy Pop,
Mad Mike,
Faust,
Sparks,
X-Ray Spex,
Flamin' Groovies,
Blossom Toes,
Slave,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Five Americans,
Arcadia,
Gil Scott Heron,
Black Pus,
Suicide,
John Coltrane,
Inner City,
The Index,
Franke,
the Slits,
Rakim,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
E-Dancer,
Albert Ayler,
Cymande,
Throbbing Gristle,
World's Most,
Duran Duran,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rites of Spring,
Average White Band,
Guru Guru,
Joey Negro,
Janne Schatter,
The Real Kids,
Shuggie Otis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gabor Szabo,
X-101,
Robert Hood,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Little Man,
Jeru the Damaja,
Laurel Aitken,
Kenny Larkin,
The Dead C,
Angry Samoans,
Todd Terry,
Cal Tjader,
A Certain Ratio,
New York Dolls,
Electric Prunes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Searchers,
Bobby Womack,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.