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 South Africa and from Portland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 theremin 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 Judy Mowatt to the grime 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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Sixth Finger,
Cymande,
Qualms,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Invisible,
Deepchord,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sugar Minott,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
MC5,
Easy Going,
Crooked Eye,
The Residents,
Basic Channel,
Donald Byrd,
Slick Rick,
Eli Mardock,
Davy DMX,
Eddi Front,
Wasted Youth,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rapeman,
The Fortunes,
Carl Craig,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
H. Thieme,
The Real Kids,
Jeru the Damaja,
Simply Red,
Stereo Dub,
Eric Copeland,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bang On A Can,
Bob Dylan,
Kevin Saunderson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Silicon Teens,
Model 500,
Loose Ends,
Boogie Down Productions,
Piero Umiliani,
Minutemen,
The Wake,
Dead Boys,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Doors,
Absolute Body Control,
New Order,
Magazine,
The Modern Lovers,
Chris & Cosey,
Alton Ellis,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jacob Miller,
B.T. Express,
John Holt,
Throbbing Gristle,
DNA,
Joensuu 1685,
Lightning Bolt,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.