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 Mali and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 rhodes 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 James White and The Blacks to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
8 Eyed Spy,
Toni Rubio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Idris Muhammad,
Laurel Aitken,
Minny Pops,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lightning Bolt,
Simply Red,
The Fire Engines,
Circle Jerks,
FM Einheit,
Ronnie Foster,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
X-Ray Spex,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Flag,
Ash Ra Tempel,
E-Dancer,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Swans,
Kurtis Blow,
The Knickerbockers,
Peter and Kerry,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Swans,
Sixth Finger,
Popol Vuh,
Interpol,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bang On A Can,
Hoover,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jawbox,
Siglo XX,
Saccharine Trust,
Young Marble Giants,
Connie Case,
Schoolly D,
John Lydon,
Ultravox,
ABC,
Chrome,
Gerry Rafferty,
Urselle,
Deadbeat,
The Mummies,
Steve Hackett,
Radiopuhelimet,
Heaven 17,
The Star Department,
The Kinks,
Stereo Dub,
Echospace,
the Slits,
The Slits,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.