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 Egypt and from Mumbai.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
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 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 Holger Czukay 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
U.S. Maple,
Kurtis Blow,
Derrick May,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
La Düsseldorf,
Bobby Byrd,
Saccharine Trust,
Alison Limerick,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Doobie Brothers,
The American Breed,
Joy Division,
Kayak,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Electric Prunes,
Crooked Eye,
Minnie Riperton,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
AZ,
Q65,
Gabor Szabo,
Y Pants,
Camberwell Now,
Colin Newman,
Monolake,
Gang of Four,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Freddie Wadling,
Qualms,
Archie Shepp,
Procol Harum,
Delta 5,
Cymande,
the Sonics,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wolf Eyes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Black Moon,
Theoretical Girls,
Lucky Dragons,
The Blackbyrds,
Reagan Youth,
The Tremeloes,
Jeff Mills,
Connie Case,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Byron Stingily,
Sister Nancy,
Porter Ricks,
The Fire Engines,
The Gories,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marine Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Sherman,
Sixth Finger,
Susan Cadogan,
The Dead C,
Jandek,
Groovy Waters,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.