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 Panama and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Portland and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Henry Cow to the dance 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 The Litter. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ornette Coleman,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pussy Galore,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Blake Baxter,
Absolute Body Control,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Theoretical Girls,
Ronan,
Jeff Lynne,
Eden Ahbez,
Alice Coltrane,
Josef K,
the Swans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Severed Heads,
These Immortal Souls,
Sonic Youth,
X-Ray Spex,
Girls At Our Best!,
Half Japanese,
Hardrive,
Swell Maps,
Yellowson,
Eli Mardock,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eddi Front,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rhythm & Sound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bauhaus,
Henry Cow,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Chris Corsano,
Gang Starr,
A Certain Ratio,
Unwound,
Deepchord,
Kaleidoscope,
The Victims,
The Alarm Clocks,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Kas Product,
Cal Tjader,
Royal Trux,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jacob Miller,
Talk Talk,
Morten Harket,
Robert Hood,
Letta Mbulu,
U.S. Maple,
The Fugs,
Black Pus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wasted Youth,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.