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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 marimba 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 Motions to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Jerry's Kids,
Warsaw,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Flag,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Knickerbockers,
Eddi Front,
Reagan Youth,
B.T. Express,
Sight & Sound,
Carl Craig,
Desert Stars,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bobby Sherman,
U.S. Maple,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Mars,
Yazoo,
the Human League,
Radio Birdman,
Eric Dolphy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Intrusion,
Black Sheep,
Tim Buckley,
Japan,
Au Pairs,
Terrestrial Tones,
New Age Steppers,
Jeff Mills,
The Sound,
Colin Newman,
Nico,
The Five Americans,
Rhythm & Sound,
Brick,
Nils Olav,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fatback Band,
Avey Tare,
Bill Wells,
Subhumans,
Urselle,
Oneida,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Germs,
Kurtis Blow,
The Shadows of Knight,
Guru Guru,
Marc Almond,
Tubeway Army,
Ralphi Rosario,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Vogues,
Ten City,
Dead Boys,
Grey Daturas,
Roxy Music,
Kayak,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.