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 Syria and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Woodstock.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Reuben Wilson 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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
This Heat,
Harmonia,
Amon Düül II,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sandy B,
Japan,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Slits,
Surgeon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stiv Bators,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Offenders,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mr. Review,
Index,
Funky Four + One,
Barrington Levy,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
the Normal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sight & Sound,
Drexciya,
Eve St. Jones,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Bar-Kays,
New York Dolls,
Camberwell Now,
The Monks,
Tomorrow,
The Toasters,
the Sonics,
Kurtis Blow,
Aaron Thompson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Evens,
The Sonics,
Ronan,
Michelle Simonal,
the Fania All-Stars,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Max Romeo,
Goldenarms,
Nik Kershaw,
Funkadelic,
Metal Thangz,
Grey Daturas,
Porter Ricks,
The Remains,
Ituana,
China Crisis,
Black Flag,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gang Green,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.