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 Congo and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Jimmy McGriff to the grime 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warren Ellis,
New York Dolls,
DJ Style,
Lalann,
Kaleidoscope,
D'Angelo,
Connie Case,
X-Ray Spex,
Johnny Clarke,
KRS-One,
Average White Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pet Shop Boys,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Zero Boys,
Erasure,
Little Man,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
DNA,
FM Einheit,
Cluster,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Doors,
John Holt,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bobby Sherman,
Section 25,
Agent Orange,
UT,
Blake Baxter,
Bush Tetras,
The Associates,
Radio Birdman,
Roxy Music,
Godley & Creme,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Shoche,
The Gladiators,
Kevin Saunderson,
Con Funk Shun,
Sällskapet,
Basic Channel,
Alice Coltrane,
F. McDonald,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Swell Maps,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pierre Henry,
Fat Boys,
Banda Bassotti,
Lou Reed,
Chris Corsano,
Minny Pops,
Funky Four + One,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ornette Coleman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
John Lydon,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.