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 El Salvador and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Lou Reed 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 Supertramp 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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Tim Buckley,
Tears for Fears,
the Association,
Terrestrial Tones,
F. McDonald,
Cluster,
Scrapy,
Hot Snakes,
The Beau Brummels,
U.S. Maple,
Joey Negro,
Gil Scott Heron,
T.S.O.L.,
Flamin' Groovies,
Depeche Mode,
Lungfish,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lakeside,
Sarah Menescal,
Sugar Minott,
Kas Product,
Matthew Bourne,
the Germs,
Gang Green,
Sixth Finger,
Jeff Lynne,
Con Funk Shun,
FM Einheit,
Y Pants,
Grandmaster Flash,
Fat Boys,
Rosa Yemen,
The Buckinghams,
Animal Collective,
Cymande,
The J.B.'s,
Josef K,
Public Enemy,
Deepchord,
Ralphi Rosario,
Robert Wyatt,
Brick,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Junior Murvin,
Los Fastidios,
Amon Düül,
Erasure,
Lightning Bolt,
The American Breed,
Gregory Isaacs,
MC5,
Fluxion,
The Residents,
Joe Smooth,
Fear,
Tommy Roe,
Crooked Eye,
DJ Style,
The Barracudas,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.