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 Cameroon and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
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 Soulsonic Force to the jazz 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 LL Cool J. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
Sixth Finger,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Litter,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Johnny Clarke,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Circle Jerks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joy Division,
Q65,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Five Americans,
Niagra,
The Angels of Light,
Ituana,
Sarah Menescal,
Arab on Radar,
Soft Cell,
Scratch Acid,
Banda Bassotti,
Alice Coltrane,
Underground Resistance,
The Mojo Men,
Scientists,
Susan Cadogan,
China Crisis,
D'Angelo,
the Slits,
Don Cherry,
Wolf Eyes,
Matthew Bourne,
Buzzcocks,
Agent Orange,
Wally Richardson,
Mr. Review,
Hoover,
Minnie Riperton,
Procol Harum,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sugar Minott,
Young Marble Giants,
Smog,
The Gladiators,
Massinfluence,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Deakin,
Radio Birdman,
Rufus Thomas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Masters at Work,
Jawbox,
Warsaw,
Tim Buckley,
Janne Schatter,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kerrie Biddell,
Colin Newman,
Swans,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.