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 Belarus and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sound Behaviour to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Shadows of Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Hot Snakes,
Susan Cadogan,
John Holt,
June of 44,
The Music Machine,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-101,
Malaria!,
It's A Beautiful Day,
cv313,
Eric Copeland,
Zero Boys,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Marc Almond,
The Birthday Party,
Hashim,
Trumans Water,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Masters at Work,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Franke,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Misunderstood,
Kaleidoscope,
Organ,
Eve St. Jones,
Byron Stingily,
Faust,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Sound,
Barbara Tucker,
Toni Rubio,
Fatback Band,
Connie Case,
Junior Murvin,
Brand Nubian,
Peter and Kerry,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
David Axelrod,
Animal Collective,
The Associates,
Bobby Byrd,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Index,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Womack,
Sam Rivers,
Henry Cow,
The United States of America,
Country Teasers,
The Offenders,
Gastr Del Sol,
Swell Maps,
Y Pants,
Al Stewart,
Albert Ayler,
The Count Five,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.