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 Honduras and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Tomorrow to the funk 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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Matthew Halsall,
Terrestrial Tones,
David McCallum,
Khruangbin,
Pagans,
The Cramps,
Ituana,
Ossler,
Qualms,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scientists,
Gang Starr,
Brass Construction,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Amon Düül,
Deakin,
Adolescents,
Danielle Patucci,
R.M.O.,
Piero Umiliani,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Blues Magoos,
DJ Style,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Simply Red,
The Pretty Things,
The Moleskins,
Chrome,
T. Rex,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Fat Boys,
Quando Quango,
Tim Buckley,
Cluster,
Sam Rivers,
Toni Rubio,
Lebanon Hanover,
Suicide,
Peter and Kerry,
Man Parrish,
Spandau Ballet,
The Invisible,
The Offenders,
Bush Tetras,
The Selecter,
The Sonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brand Nubian,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Count Five,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Intrusion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Todd Terry,
Magma,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Buckinghams,
the Association,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.