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 Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
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 Todd Terry to the electroclash 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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drive Like Jehu,
Angry Samoans,
Erasure,
Brand Nubian,
Nirvana,
Sex Pistols,
Scion,
Gil Scott Heron,
FM Einheit,
Faraquet,
Lyres,
New Order,
Skaos,
Tim Buckley,
Unrelated Segments,
Dorothy Ashby,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mary Jane Girls,
Skriet,
Wolf Eyes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Avey Tare,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Kinks,
Cheater Slicks,
The Move,
Danielle Patucci,
Robert Wyatt,
Public Enemy,
Ludus,
Eric Copeland,
Underground Resistance,
The Evens,
The Doors,
The Busters,
Ken Boothe,
John Holt,
The Toasters,
Stockholm Monsters,
Essential Logic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Motorama,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Moody Blues,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bang On A Can,
Pere Ubu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pussy Galore,
The Mojo Men,
Reagan Youth,
Radio Birdman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Tears for Fears,
The Zeros,
Stereo Dub,
Con Funk Shun,
Mission of Burma,
Lucky Dragons,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.