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 Brunei and from New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 The Beau Brummels to the disco 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
Pere Ubu,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blake Baxter,
the Normal,
The Dirtbombs,
the Sonics,
Gichy Dan,
The Mummies,
Pylon,
Soulsonic Force,
B.T. Express,
The Mojo Men,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Aural Exciters,
Swans,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
DJ Sneak,
The Durutti Column,
Quando Quango,
Spoonie Gee,
Sonic Youth,
Angry Samoans,
Can,
Aloha Tigers,
Lyres,
Agent Orange,
John Coltrane,
Bauhaus,
The Fuzztones,
EPMD,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Standells,
Smog,
Scan 7,
Black Pus,
The Count Five,
Public Enemy,
L. Decosne,
Oblivians,
Jesper Dahlback,
Blossom Toes,
Whodini,
Vladislav Delay,
The United States of America,
Nick Fraelich,
Hashim,
Banda Bassotti,
Robert Görl,
Mark Hollis,
Echospace,
Thee Headcoats,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rakim,
Michelle Simonal,
Ken Boothe,
Cal Tjader,
Susan Cadogan,
Spandau Ballet,
The Moleskins,
DNA,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.