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 Vietnam and from Spokane.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the güiro 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 Eve St. Jones to the grunge 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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Tres Demented,
the Human League,
Bobby Byrd,
Crooked Eye,
The Knickerbockers,
Funkadelic,
Whodini,
Deadbeat,
The Monks,
Sandy B,
The Gories,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Minnie Riperton,
Grey Daturas,
The Trojans,
Loose Ends,
The Gladiators,
Don Cherry,
Theoretical Girls,
The Count Five,
Gong,
Fela Kuti,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Aswad,
Alton Ellis,
Goldenarms,
Soft Cell,
Hardrive,
Charles Mingus,
Lungfish,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Skriet,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
David McCallum,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Slits,
Susan Cadogan,
Nas,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Camberwell Now,
Procol Harum,
Roxette,
The Selecter,
Sällskapet,
Lindisfarne,
Spoonie Gee,
Franke,
Mandrill,
Alphaville,
Cal Tjader,
Soul Sonic Force,
Wally Richardson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kurtis Blow,
Scrapy,
Laurel Aitken,
Silicon Teens,
Sam Rivers,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Von Mondo,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.