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 Greece and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Pantaleimon to the jazz 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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
The Neon Judgement,
Altered Images,
Kurtis Blow,
Slick Rick,
Faraquet,
The Techniques,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Public Enemy,
Heaven 17,
Eve St. Jones,
Motorama,
Talk Talk,
The Victims,
Susan Cadogan,
Camouflage,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
CMW,
MDC,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ronan,
The Count Five,
DJ Style,
Frankie Knuckles,
Audionom,
Rotary Connection,
Wasted Youth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
James White and The Blacks,
Marvin Gaye,
The Buckinghams,
Judy Mowatt,
Interpol,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sugar Minott,
Basic Channel,
Maleditus Sound,
Gong,
Warren Ellis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Minnie Riperton,
Animal Collective,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Kinks,
The Slackers,
Los Fastidios,
Matthew Halsall,
The Music Machine,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jacob Miller,
H. Thieme,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sällskapet,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Bananas,
Prince Buster,
Fela Kuti,
Circle Jerks,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.