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 Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 Toronto and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 oboe 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Bush Tetras,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Motorama,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Boredoms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Oblivians,
Rod Modell,
UT,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Piero Umiliani,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Q65,
Ornette Coleman,
Agent Orange,
John Lydon,
Jandek,
Hasil Adkins,
The Angels of Light,
The Alarm Clocks,
Maleditus Sound,
Ten City,
Wolf Eyes,
The Associates,
Eric Copeland,
Rakim,
Deepchord,
B.T. Express,
Saccharine Trust,
Kaleidoscope,
Hardrive,
Oneida,
Sister Nancy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Isaac Hayes,
Laurel Aitken,
Lungfish,
Babytalk,
Desert Stars,
X-101,
Don Cherry,
Ponytail,
The Tremeloes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Loose Ends,
Iggy Pop,
Gong,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Niagra,
Robert Görl,
Blancmange,
James White and The Blacks,
Section 25,
Scrapy,
The Neon Judgement,
China Crisis,
The Techniques,
Rufus Thomas,
New Order,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.