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 Turkmenistan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Seoul.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Minny Pops to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
PIL,
Sex Pistols,
Derrick Morgan,
Connie Case,
Marshall Jefferson,
Second Layer,
Desert Stars,
The Neon Judgement,
Minny Pops,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Red Krayola,
Aswad,
Ludus,
the Fania All-Stars,
The J.B.'s,
Bill Near,
K-Klass,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Public Image Ltd.,
cv313,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Yusef Lateef,
Juan Atkins,
Lee Hazlewood,
Throbbing Gristle,
Godley & Creme,
Procol Harum,
Organ,
Yaz,
The Names,
Mo-Dettes,
Lakeside,
The Flesh Eaters,
Buzzcocks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Moss Icon,
This Heat,
The New Christs,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Trojans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Khruangbin,
Mission of Burma,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Talk Talk,
Jeff Mills,
Pere Ubu,
Andrew Hill,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
New Age Steppers,
Sight & Sound,
Wolf Eyes,
Harry Pussy,
The Mojo Men,
Altered Images,
The Gladiators,
Crispian St. Peters,
Oblivians,
Michelle Simonal,
Wire,
The Fire Engines,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.