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 Liechtenstein and from Manchester.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
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 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 David Bowie to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Mandrill,
The Fuzztones,
World's Most,
E-Dancer,
Ossler,
La Düsseldorf,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Sonics,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lindisfarne,
Michelle Simonal,
Lalann,
Alphaville,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sam Rivers,
Pantytec,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Germs,
the Slits,
Massinfluence,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Kinks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Mr. Review,
The Smiths,
Dawn Penn,
The Zeros,
The Saints,
Eric Dolphy,
John Cale,
The Black Dice,
Heaven 17,
The Angels of Light,
Bluetip,
DJ Sneak,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Zero Boys,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cal Tjader,
K-Klass,
Wasted Youth,
Roxy Music,
Malaria!,
Black Bananas,
Man Eating Sloth,
Piero Umiliani,
Black Sheep,
Lungfish,
Colin Newman,
Sun Ra,
The Gap Band,
Little Man,
The Music Machine,
Urselle,
Sparks,
Scott Walker,
The Divine Comedy,
Robert Hood,
Robert Görl,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.