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 New Zealand and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Mumbai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 In Retrospect to the grunge 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Symarip,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sex Pistols,
The Moleskins,
The Mojo Men,
Fifty Foot Hose,
X-Ray Spex,
World's Most,
Basic Channel,
This Heat,
Sound Behaviour,
Mars,
Excepter,
Kayak,
Sällskapet,
Lucky Dragons,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Severed Heads,
Janne Schatter,
Connie Case,
Motorama,
Rod Modell,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barbara Tucker,
Shoche,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Delta 5,
The Fall,
The Kinks,
Essential Logic,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Popol Vuh,
Banda Bassotti,
Bang On A Can,
Country Teasers,
Pylon,
Black Sheep,
Trumans Water,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Althea and Donna,
Zapp,
Minny Pops,
Grandmaster Flash,
Skarface,
Make Up,
Wally Richardson,
Electric Prunes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mo-Dettes,
Slave,
Albert Ayler,
Scan 7,
Morten Harket,
Blake Baxter,
Easy Going,
Arab on Radar,
John Cale,
Pharoah Sanders,
Amon Düül,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.