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 Turkey and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Matthew Halsall to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Colin Newman,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Youth Brigade,
The Invisible,
Zero Boys,
The Saints,
Ultimate Spinach,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Dave Clark Five,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Pretty Things,
LL Cool J,
Smog,
Outsiders,
Ten City,
Sun Ra,
Whodini,
Joe Smooth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Flipper,
Isaac Hayes,
the Normal,
Public Enemy,
Visage,
Blake Baxter,
Easy Going,
Sällskapet,
Sex Pistols,
Eve St. Jones,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bronski Beat,
The Leaves,
Albert Ayler,
Panda Bear,
The Shadows of Knight,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lakeside,
Pantaleimon,
Scott Walker,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tears for Fears,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fugs,
Make Up,
Babytalk,
Gichy Dan,
Juan Atkins,
The Stooges,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Slits,
Organ,
Urselle,
New York Dolls,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Angels of Light,
Rites of Spring,
Franke,
Boz Scaggs,
Little Man,
The Seeds,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.