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 Equatorial Guinea and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Judy Mowatt to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Sight & Sound,
Donny Hathaway,
Y Pants,
Talk Talk,
Harpers Bizarre,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gang Starr,
Man Parrish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pylon,
Saccharine Trust,
Tomorrow,
PIL,
The Moody Blues,
Wasted Youth,
The Velvet Underground,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eve St. Jones,
Godley & Creme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Gun Club,
Negative Approach,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Holt,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Jesper Dahlback,
Cybotron,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Pop Group,
the Association,
Alison Limerick,
Magazine,
Scratch Acid,
48th St. Collective,
The Litter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
F. McDonald,
Nas,
John Lydon,
The Cowsills,
Infiniti,
China Crisis,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Thompson Twins,
The Martian,
Fear,
John Cale,
Lee Hazlewood,
Derrick May,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eurythmics,
Little Man,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.