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 Estonia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Q and Not U to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Seeds. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
The Offenders,
New Age Steppers,
Carl Craig,
Depeche Mode,
48th St. Collective,
Sun Ra,
The Trojans,
L. Decosne,
the Fania All-Stars,
Anthony Braxton,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Star Department,
Harpers Bizarre,
Basic Channel,
The Sound,
UT,
Yazoo,
Japan,
The Red Krayola,
Con Funk Shun,
Bang On A Can,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
AZ,
kango's stein massive,
The Beau Brummels,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jawbox,
Joensuu 1685,
E-Dancer,
Suicide,
Crispian St. Peters,
Babytalk,
Agent Orange,
The Count Five,
The Raincoats,
Bronski Beat,
Tom Boy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lindisfarne,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
John Cale,
The Seeds,
Colin Newman,
the Swans,
Pole,
Lucky Dragons,
Darondo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Michelle Simonal,
Gabor Szabo,
The Sonics,
Blossom Toes,
David McCallum,
Howard Jones,
Aaron Thompson,
Nick Fraelich,
Bauhaus,
Danielle Patucci,
DJ Style,
Kurtis Blow,
Derrick May,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.