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 Seychelles and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 arpeggiator 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 Judy Mowatt to the crunk 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
The Angels of Light,
The Barracudas,
Chris & Cosey,
Ice-T,
The Saints,
B.T. Express,
Junior Murvin,
Dark Day,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Roy Ayers,
L. Decosne,
Beasts of Bourbon,
H. Thieme,
Spoonie Gee,
Colin Newman,
Robert Hood,
Malaria!,
The Gories,
Pole,
Sarah Menescal,
Saccharine Trust,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Swell Maps,
Livin' Joy,
Harry Pussy,
Unwound,
Lucky Dragons,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fela Kuti,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ronnie Foster,
The American Breed,
a-ha,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Television Personalities,
Joe Smooth,
Glenn Branca,
Pantaleimon,
Bill Near,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gabor Szabo,
The Golliwogs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Althea and Donna,
KRS-One,
Essential Logic,
Popol Vuh,
Gang Green,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crooked Eye,
Wasted Youth,
Japan,
The Music Machine,
Outsiders,
Y Pants,
Lakeside,
Radio Birdman,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.