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 Senegal and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Smiths to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Mills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Siglo XX,
Gang Starr,
Sam Rivers,
Derrick May,
Suicide,
The Detroit Cobras,
Frankie Knuckles,
Harry Pussy,
The Last Poets,
Metal Thangz,
Grey Daturas,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rufus Thomas,
The Velvet Underground,
Bluetip,
Sarah Menescal,
Unwound,
Sex Pistols,
Desert Stars,
Matthew Halsall,
Kas Product,
Janne Schatter,
Ituana,
Crooked Eye,
Mars,
Sällskapet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Music Machine,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
EPMD,
Lee Hazlewood,
Danielle Patucci,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Magma,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Cramps,
The Sound,
Jawbox,
Eli Mardock,
Barrington Levy,
Rotary Connection,
X-Ray Spex,
Darondo,
Kenny Larkin,
Ronan,
Donny Hathaway,
New Age Steppers,
Duran Duran,
Nation of Ulysses,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Remains,
The New Christs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lalann,
Main Source,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Saints,
Khruangbin,
Roger Hodgson,
Scrapy,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.