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 Kyrgyzstan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the grime 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Eddi Front,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Sound,
The Music Machine,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Stooges,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Japan,
Magazine,
Scrapy,
Guru Guru,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rekid,
Lee Hazlewood,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Funky Four + One,
Pylon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Average White Band,
Ossler,
Lyres,
Spandau Ballet,
Swell Maps,
Alison Limerick,
The American Breed,
Todd Terry,
Electric Prunes,
Bob Dylan,
Pere Ubu,
Eve St. Jones,
Andrew Hill,
Procol Harum,
Fear,
Marc Almond,
Absolute Body Control,
Gabor Szabo,
The Barracudas,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Amon Düül,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tim Buckley,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Flag,
Altered Images,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gong,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Severed Heads,
Kerrie Biddell,
Nation of Ulysses,
Yaz,
The Dead C,
The Victims,
the Normal,
Hardrive,
Lungfish,
The Cowsills,
kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive.
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.