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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Don Cherry to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Absolute Body Control,
Radiohead,
Thee Headcoats,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
a-ha,
Boz Scaggs,
Tim Buckley,
Technova,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jeff Lynne,
Country Teasers,
Bill Wells,
Traffic Nightmare,
Don Cherry,
June of 44,
Robert Görl,
The Mojo Men,
Bizarre Inc.,
Q and Not U,
Lungfish,
DNA,
Charles Mingus,
the Slits,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ken Boothe,
John Foxx,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Second Layer,
Rakim,
Robert Wyatt,
The Toasters,
Zero Boys,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Roxy Music,
Soft Machine,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Yazoo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lalann,
EPMD,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Sound,
X-Ray Spex,
Marmalade,
The New Christs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
China Crisis,
Donald Byrd,
Arab on Radar,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sarah Menescal,
Rosa Yemen,
Panda Bear,
Morten Harket,
Davy DMX,
Leonard Cohen,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eric Copeland,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.