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 Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Smog to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
The Knickerbockers,
Aural Exciters,
The Doors,
Groovy Waters,
John Holt,
The Dirtbombs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Foxx,
Marc Almond,
the Swans,
Wally Richardson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Con Funk Shun,
June of 44,
the Sonics,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Thee Headcoats,
The Barracudas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Zapp,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Joensuu 1685,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rod Modell,
Ossler,
The Techniques,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Saints,
T. Rex,
Pharoah Sanders,
Connie Case,
Susan Cadogan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Derrick Morgan,
Ultravox,
Half Japanese,
Yellowson,
Young Marble Giants,
Japan,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sarah Menescal,
The Doobie Brothers,
Section 25,
Intrusion,
Negative Approach,
Kaleidoscope,
Cal Tjader,
Masters at Work,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Martian,
Interpol,
Mars,
Soft Machine,
Essential Logic,
Chrome,
Royal Trux,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Robert Hood,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.