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 Grenada and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
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 Holger Czukay 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 Star Department to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Newcleus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Peter & Gordon,
Eve St. Jones,
The Skatalites,
Sam Rivers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Durutti Column,
World's Most,
Black Pus,
The Vogues,
Sonny Sharrock,
Fela Kuti,
The Martian,
Pere Ubu,
Amon Düül,
Amazonics,
Nico,
Joe Finger,
The Human League,
Lebanon Hanover,
Howard Jones,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Erykah Badu,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The New Christs,
Subhumans,
Hot Snakes,
Marcia Griffiths,
Franke,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Darondo,
Robert Wyatt,
David Bowie,
Johnny Clarke,
The United States of America,
Alphaville,
Black Moon,
Yusef Lateef,
Lakeside,
Scrapy,
Brothers Johnson,
The Offenders,
The Doobie Brothers,
Circle Jerks,
Bang On A Can,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bronski Beat,
Cameo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marc Almond,
Colin Newman,
Scion,
Qualms,
The Monochrome Set,
L. Decosne,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Suburban Knight,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.