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 South Sudan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Aswad to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Fall,
Jandek,
The Smoke,
the Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
These Immortal Souls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sister Nancy,
Main Source,
ABC,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Black Bananas,
Terry Callier,
The Invisible,
Piero Umiliani,
Procol Harum,
the Normal,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Icehouse,
Todd Rundgren,
Juan Atkins,
Country Teasers,
Easy Going,
Quando Quango,
Steve Hackett,
Glenn Branca,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scratch Acid,
Funkadelic,
Magma,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Porter Ricks,
Depeche Mode,
The Count Five,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Young Rascals,
Television Personalities,
Stiv Bators,
Kenny Larkin,
Pussy Galore,
The Wake,
Man Eating Sloth,
World's Most,
Sexual Harrassment,
A Flock of Seagulls,
8 Eyed Spy,
Warren Ellis,
Hashim,
The Standells,
Amon Düül,
Yazoo,
E-Dancer,
Circle Jerks,
Colin Newman,
Erykah Badu,
James White and The Blacks,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.