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 Georgia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Audionom tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Aloha Tigers,
Patti Smith,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tubeway Army,
Eric Dolphy,
Hot Snakes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Dirtbombs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nation of Ulysses,
One Last Wish,
The Beau Brummels,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
a-ha,
The Kinks,
The Remains,
The Leaves,
The Cramps,
The Black Dice,
The Mummies,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Flesh Eaters,
Alison Limerick,
Au Pairs,
Mars,
Robert Hood,
The Litter,
Rotary Connection,
Arab on Radar,
Piero Umiliani,
JFA,
The Gladiators,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ludus,
T.S.O.L.,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Byron Stingily,
Pussy Galore,
Mission of Burma,
Sonic Youth,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Wake,
Funky Four + One,
Bronski Beat,
KRS-One,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Arthur Verocai,
The J.B.'s,
Sight & Sound,
The Angels of Light,
The Doobie Brothers,
Thee Headcoats,
R.M.O.,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gang Starr,
Anthony Braxton,
Scott Walker,
cv313,
Todd Rundgren,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.