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 Togo and from Columbus.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 oboe 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 Letta Mbulu to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick Morgan,
Tom Boy,
Blossom Toes,
Tommy Roe,
Robert Wyatt,
The Misunderstood,
Jesper Dahlback,
Desert Stars,
The Offenders,
Motorama,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Whodini,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kas Product,
Anthony Braxton,
Livin' Joy,
Hashim,
Radiohead,
The Angels of Light,
Amazonics,
Darondo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Selecter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sight & Sound,
Monolake,
Khruangbin,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare,
Mo-Dettes,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Modern Lovers,
The Blues Magoos,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Warren Ellis,
Morten Harket,
Sun Ra,
Rosa Yemen,
John Coltrane,
Joey Negro,
the Slits,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mark Hollis,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rakim,
Danielle Patucci,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Mojo Men,
Loose Ends,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Laurel Aitken,
Excepter,
Black Moon,
Pagans,
Kenny Larkin,
A Certain Ratio,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Altered Images,
Soft Cell,
Accadde A,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.