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 India and from Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
The Monks,
ABBA,
This Heat,
Crooked Eye,
The Flesh Eaters,
Spoonie Gee,
Adolescents,
Bauhaus,
The Tremeloes,
ABC,
The Beau Brummels,
Essential Logic,
Bush Tetras,
the Association,
Gichy Dan,
The Litter,
The Associates,
Desert Stars,
Soulsonic Force,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Technova,
James White and The Blacks,
Mad Mike,
The Human League,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeru the Damaja,
Freddie Wadling,
Sarah Menescal,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Stereo Dub,
Groovy Waters,
T. Rex,
Drive Like Jehu,
Peter and Kerry,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Pretty Things,
Vladislav Delay,
Das Ding,
Dawn Penn,
the Normal,
Pagans,
UT,
Yellowson,
Cheater Slicks,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Martian,
Black Flag,
Malaria!,
The Count Five,
The Moleskins,
The Misunderstood,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rufus Thomas,
Sun City Girls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gang Starr,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sixth Finger,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.