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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Halifax.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pharoah Sanders to the disco 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Real Kids,
The Remains,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hasil Adkins,
X-102,
Kurtis Blow,
Cheater Slicks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scientists,
Surgeon,
Das Ding,
Adolescents,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tom Boy,
Soulsonic Force,
Oblivians,
Deepchord,
Mark Hollis,
The Kinks,
Letta Mbulu,
Isaac Hayes,
Henry Cow,
Lakeside,
James White and The Blacks,
Scott Walker,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ituana,
Malaria!,
Harry Pussy,
The Dead C,
Jacques Brel,
Vladislav Delay,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Young Marble Giants,
Matthew Bourne,
Black Bananas,
Dead Boys,
Joe Finger,
World's Most,
The Vogues,
Theoretical Girls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sight & Sound,
Cluster,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nik Kershaw,
Ronan,
Hoover,
Unwound,
Talk Talk,
Sugar Minott,
Charles Mingus,
Crispian St. Peters,
Au Pairs,
Sister Nancy,
Roger Hodgson,
John Coltrane,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.