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 Nepal and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Angry Samoans to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Angry Samoans,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lyres,
The Count Five,
The Raincoats,
Frankie Knuckles,
Soul Sonic Force,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Echospace,
Alphaville,
Letta Mbulu,
In Retrospect,
Soft Cell,
Brand Nubian,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
R.M.O.,
Scrapy,
the Soft Cell,
Half Japanese,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Quantec,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The New Christs,
Crispy Ambulance,
LL Cool J,
Roy Ayers,
The Move,
Freddie Wadling,
Von Mondo,
Shoche,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Red Krayola,
Underground Resistance,
New Age Steppers,
Dual Sessions,
Rites of Spring,
Glambeats Corp.,
Max Romeo,
Idris Muhammad,
Altered Images,
Gong,
Girls At Our Best!,
Harry Pussy,
Youth Brigade,
New York Dolls,
Whodini,
Maleditus Sound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Slave,
Au Pairs,
Brass Construction,
Infiniti,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Neon Judgement,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Judy Mowatt,
Spoonie Gee,
Liliput,
Blake Baxter,
The Motions,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.