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 Tanzania and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar 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 Deadbeat to the techno 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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jimmy McGriff,
Excepter,
Eric Copeland,
Sandy B,
UT,
Oblivians,
The Leaves,
Mr. Review,
AZ,
Albert Ayler,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Angels of Light,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sällskapet,
Delta 5,
Marc Almond,
FM Einheit,
The Selecter,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tom Boy,
Dennis Brown,
Robert Görl,
Banda Bassotti,
Nils Olav,
Arab on Radar,
Peter & Gordon,
Second Layer,
Byron Stingily,
The Saints,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Stockholm Monsters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ludus,
The Martian,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Gladiators,
Yaz,
The Fugs,
Letta Mbulu,
The Fall,
Severed Heads,
Don Cherry,
Jesper Dahlback,
Barry Ungar,
Spandau Ballet,
The Birthday Party,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lower 48,
Zero Boys,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Beau Brummels,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Grauzone,
Outsiders,
Joey Negro,
Ornette Coleman,
Blancmange,
Bauhaus,
The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight.
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.