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 Sri Lanka and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet 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 The Sonics to the crunk 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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
The Angels of Light,
Sandy B,
Johnny Clarke,
Dennis Brown,
Minny Pops,
Talk Talk,
Crispian St. Peters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Fania All-Stars,
Icehouse,
DJ Style,
The Beau Brummels,
Young Marble Giants,
Arab on Radar,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mo-Dettes,
Kaleidoscope,
Fat Boys,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rakim,
Ten City,
Gong,
Radio Birdman,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gladiators,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fatback Band,
Ludus,
Soft Cell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Das Ding,
Technova,
The Five Americans,
Mandrill,
China Crisis,
Porter Ricks,
Mark Hollis,
Cal Tjader,
The Dead C,
Circle Jerks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bush Tetras,
Clear Light,
Moss Icon,
kango's stein massive,
The Blues Magoos,
U.S. Maple,
Sparks,
Tim Buckley,
Morten Harket,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Golliwogs,
R.M.O.,
The Skatalites,
Faraquet,
Hasil Adkins,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.