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 Bulgaria and from Spokane.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar 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 Scott Walker to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
T.S.O.L.,
Bobby Sherman,
Panda Bear,
Niagra,
Marshall Jefferson,
F. McDonald,
Motorama,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eddi Front,
Black Sheep,
LL Cool J,
Country Teasers,
The Real Kids,
Alton Ellis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Leonard Cohen,
Lucky Dragons,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Outsiders,
June Days,
Absolute Body Control,
Aaron Thompson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Talk Talk,
Graham Central Station,
The Dirtbombs,
The Zeros,
The Toasters,
Kenny Larkin,
The American Breed,
Minor Threat,
OOIOO,
The Seeds,
Jacques Brel,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Neon Judgement,
Suburban Knight,
Tres Demented,
Aswad,
Matthew Bourne,
Funky Four + One,
Cecil Taylor,
Judy Mowatt,
The Smoke,
Banda Bassotti,
Albert Ayler,
Bang On A Can,
Tubeway Army,
Blancmange,
Sexual Harrassment,
Carl Craig,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Foxx,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tomorrow,
Glambeats Corp.,
48th St. Collective,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.