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 Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer 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 Slackers to the electroclash 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Banda Bassotti,
Qualms,
The Gap Band,
Pulsallama,
Steve Hackett,
Harry Pussy,
The Red Krayola,
Lower 48,
Wings,
the Swans,
Newcleus,
Sixth Finger,
The Offenders,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fear,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Last Poets,
Masters at Work,
Sam Rivers,
UT,
Gabor Szabo,
Quadrant,
The Remains,
Ornette Coleman,
Joy Division,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jesper Dahlback,
LL Cool J,
Average White Band,
Au Pairs,
Don Cherry,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tropical Tobacco,
Hasil Adkins,
Accadde A,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ken Boothe,
Nils Olav,
Yusef Lateef,
DNA,
Monolake,
Unwound,
Matthew Halsall,
The Raincoats,
The Fall,
Depeche Mode,
Funky Four + One,
Eve St. Jones,
Pharoah Sanders,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Marcia Griffiths,
These Immortal Souls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
L. Decosne,
The Barracudas,
Sandy B,
Bush Tetras,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.