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 Bangladesh and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise 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 The Grass Roots to the rock 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
Pagans,
Parry Music,
The Victims,
K-Klass,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Harry Pussy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gong,
Sällskapet,
Tommy Roe,
Crash Course in Science,
Neu!,
Thee Headcoats,
Matthew Halsall,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fluxion,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The United States of America,
Eve St. Jones,
Lucky Dragons,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sugar Minott,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Bananas,
CMW,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eric Dolphy,
Cal Tjader,
Tres Demented,
The Barracudas,
Brothers Johnson,
Steve Hackett,
The Velvet Underground,
Rufus Thomas,
Matthew Bourne,
Joe Finger,
Tears for Fears,
Stiv Bators,
Mr. Review,
The Last Poets,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pere Ubu,
Leonard Cohen,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minnie Riperton,
Moby Grape,
World's Most,
Intrusion,
The Seeds,
Spandau Ballet,
Henry Cow,
Bush Tetras,
Little Man,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Von Mondo,
June Days,
Barry Ungar,
Cecil Taylor,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.