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 Iran and from Mumbai.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the funk 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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every LL Cool J record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Silicon Teens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Henry Cow,
The Selecter,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Barrington Levy,
Brick,
Ohio Players,
L. Decosne,
The Durutti Column,
Angry Samoans,
Curtis Mayfield,
MC5,
Von Mondo,
AZ,
Joy Division,
Ossler,
Sandy B,
Banda Bassotti,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lou Christie,
Y Pants,
Harmonia,
K-Klass,
a-ha,
Groovy Waters,
Mandrill,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
David Bowie,
Dark Day,
Josef K,
Bronski Beat,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
B.T. Express,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cluster,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Joe Finger,
Lucky Dragons,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pantaleimon,
Sparks,
Newcleus,
Flipper,
Peter and Kerry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Joyce Sims,
Circle Jerks,
ABBA,
Jawbox,
Fugazi,
The Sound,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Vladislav Delay,
Quadrant,
Robert Hood,
The Golliwogs,
David McCallum,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.