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 Burundi and from Lagos.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The United States of America to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter and Kerry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Roger Hodgson,
Gil Scott Heron,
Amon Düül II,
cv313,
Bob Dylan,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang of Four,
F. McDonald,
Hoover,
Piero Umiliani,
Kayak,
The Red Krayola,
Marcia Griffiths,
Goldenarms,
Yusef Lateef,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
U.S. Maple,
Qualms,
Bill Near,
Lungfish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Half Japanese,
Groovy Waters,
Lou Christie,
Drexciya,
Barbara Tucker,
Chris & Cosey,
Public Enemy,
Outsiders,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Thee Headcoats,
Man Eating Sloth,
Easy Going,
The Martian,
Matthew Bourne,
John Coltrane,
Junior Murvin,
Susan Cadogan,
Roy Ayers,
The Monks,
Porter Ricks,
Johnny Osbourne,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Associates,
CMW,
Flipper,
Tomorrow,
Suburban Knight,
Pussy Galore,
Fela Kuti,
DJ Style,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eden Ahbez,
Infiniti,
David Bowie,
Pylon,
Nico,
Skarface,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.