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 Mongolia and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Kerrie Biddell to the grunge 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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Liliput,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lyres,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang of Four,
Ornette Coleman,
Rod Modell,
Ken Boothe,
Desert Stars,
The Searchers,
Mantronix,
Terry Callier,
The Star Department,
Fear,
The Electric Prunes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
FM Einheit,
Swans,
Ponytail,
Theoretical Girls,
UT,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Erasure,
Half Japanese,
The Smiths,
Underground Resistance,
Drive Like Jehu,
Television,
Reuben Wilson,
Simply Red,
The Moleskins,
Cameo,
The Standells,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Wyatt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Real Kids,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
H. Thieme,
Agent Orange,
Outsiders,
Tres Demented,
Kevin Saunderson,
Severed Heads,
Amazonics,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Crispy Ambulance,
Organ,
Motorama,
Blossom Toes,
Camberwell Now,
Marshall Jefferson,
Metal Thangz,
T.S.O.L.,
The Gories,
Pierre Henry,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.