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 Solomon Islands and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 808 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 Ralphi Rosario to the grunge 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
The Residents,
Peter & Gordon,
Flash Fearless,
Pantaleimon,
the Slits,
Theoretical Girls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gabor Szabo,
Ronnie Foster,
The Monochrome Set,
B.T. Express,
Todd Terry,
Jandek,
Brothers Johnson,
Crash Course in Science,
Sam Rivers,
Jacques Brel,
Pylon,
Monks,
Country Teasers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Remains,
Hot Snakes,
DJ Sneak,
The Golliwogs,
Average White Band,
Fear,
Black Sheep,
Das Ding,
Infiniti,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Echospace,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Carl Craig,
Masters at Work,
Gichy Dan,
Section 25,
Von Mondo,
Youth Brigade,
Mark Hollis,
Roger Hodgson,
Amon Düül II,
Lightning Bolt,
The Move,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Dead C,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
World's Most,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Durutti Column,
Joyce Sims,
Robert Wyatt,
Minny Pops,
Pharoah Sanders,
Shuggie Otis,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Busters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
R.M.O.,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.