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 Ivory Coast and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Hot Snakes to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Surgeon,
Roy Ayers,
Black Bananas,
Dave Gahan,
Sixth Finger,
Michelle Simonal,
Basic Channel,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Faraquet,
DJ Style,
Ultravox,
Robert Hood,
Tubeway Army,
Depeche Mode,
Thompson Twins,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Moody Blues,
Pierre Henry,
The Detroit Cobras,
Byron Stingily,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Echospace,
The Fire Engines,
Charles Mingus,
Wolf Eyes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ronan,
Donald Byrd,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eddi Front,
Second Layer,
Ultra Naté,
The Index,
Agitation Free,
Wasted Youth,
Simply Red,
L. Decosne,
Piero Umiliani,
Nirvana,
The Young Rascals,
The Golliwogs,
Eric Dolphy,
Cluster,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Arcadia,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Shuggie Otis,
Kayak,
Marvin Gaye,
The Human League,
Spoonie Gee,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Harmonia,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Drexciya,
James White and The Blacks,
The Martian,
Scratch Acid,
Rekid,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.