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 Botswana and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Eric Copeland to the jazz 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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Skatalites,
Colin Newman,
The Dead C,
Oblivians,
Blake Baxter,
Ornette Coleman,
The Dave Clark Five,
Agent Orange,
Reagan Youth,
Yaz,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sound Behaviour,
FM Einheit,
Crash Course in Science,
The Standells,
Saccharine Trust,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
X-102,
Radiopuhelimet,
Dark Day,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gang Gang Dance,
Yellowson,
Can,
Fluxion,
The Durutti Column,
The Happenings,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Fall,
The Wake,
Wings,
Hashim,
Suburban Knight,
Cymande,
Soul II Soul,
The Smoke,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Livin' Joy,
Wasted Youth,
Tomorrow,
John Coltrane,
Barrington Levy,
Kayak,
Todd Terry,
Alice Coltrane,
Los Fastidios,
Deepchord,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bill Wells,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The New Christs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bang On A Can,
Aaron Thompson,
The Selecter,
Avey Tare,
Sexual Harrassment,
Visage,
Slick Rick,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.