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 Turkey and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Donald Fagen 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 Moleskins to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Con Funk Shun,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Monks,
Mark Hollis,
Gil Scott Heron,
T.S.O.L.,
The Durutti Column,
Bang On A Can,
Symarip,
Albert Ayler,
Wolf Eyes,
The Electric Prunes,
A Certain Ratio,
Eric Copeland,
Malaria!,
Deadbeat,
Bootsy Collins,
Bad Manners,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Q65,
Marine Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Matthew Bourne,
The Knickerbockers,
Cal Tjader,
Smog,
Vladislav Delay,
The Count Five,
Skriet,
Amon Düül,
Janne Schatter,
Neu!,
Don Cherry,
Robert Hood,
Shoche,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sun City Girls,
The New Christs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blancmange,
Bluetip,
The Blackbyrds,
Moebius,
Ituana,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wasted Youth,
Au Pairs,
Davy DMX,
Roger Hodgson,
The Martian,
Kenny Larkin,
Newcleus,
Yazoo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
LL Cool J,
Robert Wyatt,
Cameo,
AZ,
MC5,
Accadde A,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.