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 Kenya and from Glasgow.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Tomorrow to the disco 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Deakin,
the Association,
Yazoo,
Boz Scaggs,
David Bowie,
Hoover,
Television,
Unwound,
Deadbeat,
Chris Corsano,
The Buckinghams,
Fatback Band,
Supertramp,
Symarip,
Darondo,
Albert Ayler,
Crispian St. Peters,
Q and Not U,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Royal Trux,
Loose Ends,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joe Smooth,
Alphaville,
Maurizio,
Bootsy Collins,
Kool Moe Dee,
Masters at Work,
Wings,
Smog,
Sound Behaviour,
Glenn Branca,
Harry Pussy,
Joe Finger,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Newcleus,
Pantytec,
The Raincoats,
Sparks,
Niagra,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The United States of America,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Surgeon,
Mo-Dettes,
Accadde A,
Ludus,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Talk Talk,
Tres Demented,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Laurel Aitken,
The Durutti Column,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marine Girls,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Bananas,
Parry Music,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.