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 Chile and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Absolute Body Control to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
The Red Krayola,
Mantronix,
The Sonics,
Tears for Fears,
Moss Icon,
Pierre Henry,
Youth Brigade,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Colin Newman,
The Gladiators,
Shoche,
ABC,
The Gun Club,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Charles Mingus,
Eli Mardock,
The Neon Judgement,
Underground Resistance,
Boredoms,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gong,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jandek,
Oneida,
KRS-One,
AZ,
Japan,
The Gap Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
Wire,
Parry Music,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lower 48,
Grey Daturas,
Sight & Sound,
Soulsonic Force,
David McCallum,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Pretty Things,
June Days,
Panda Bear,
The Wake,
Suicide,
Excepter,
Gang of Four,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ludus,
Dorothy Ashby,
China Crisis,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bill Near,
The Sound,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Easy Going,
Rod Modell,
The Pop Group,
The Last Poets,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.