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 Guatemala and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum 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 Nation of Ulysses to the crunk 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ken Boothe,
Adolescents,
Cameo,
The Selecter,
Eurythmics,
Magma,
Country Teasers,
DJ Sneak,
The Moody Blues,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wings,
Scott Walker,
Ohio Players,
John Coltrane,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sandy B,
The Birthday Party,
Lindisfarne,
The Monks,
KRS-One,
New Order,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Y Pants,
The Martian,
Gabor Szabo,
Hasil Adkins,
The Angels of Light,
Minnie Riperton,
Boogie Down Productions,
Black Bananas,
Pere Ubu,
Eric B and Rakim,
Max Romeo,
Absolute Body Control,
Suicide,
Bobby Sherman,
The Red Krayola,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
10cc,
The Fugs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Amon Düül II,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Glenn Branca,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Kinks,
F. McDonald,
The Slits,
Anakelly,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nik Kershaw,
Rhythm & Sound,
Aloha Tigers,
The Residents,
Juan Atkins,
Boz Scaggs,
Altered Images,
Bang On A Can,
Amon Düül,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.