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 Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dorothy Ashby 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 UT. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 an arpeggiator and a clarinet 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 snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Public Enemy,
Brick,
the Germs,
Pharoah Sanders,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Anakelly,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Depeche Mode,
Simply Red,
Pussy Galore,
Bill Wells,
the Swans,
the Sonics,
Sister Nancy,
The Gap Band,
Adolescents,
Joe Finger,
Wally Richardson,
Con Funk Shun,
The J.B.'s,
Ornette Coleman,
MDC,
The Angels of Light,
John Holt,
Janne Schatter,
David Bowie,
Warren Ellis,
Eric Copeland,
Beasts of Bourbon,
La Düsseldorf,
Brass Construction,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Icehouse,
Loose Ends,
The Fuzztones,
Robert Wyatt,
Los Fastidios,
Symarip,
John Lydon,
cv313,
Bang On A Can,
Josef K,
Eli Mardock,
Severed Heads,
Joensuu 1685,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fugazi,
Sexual Harrassment,
Easy Going,
The Cure,
The Barracudas,
Reagan Youth,
R.M.O.,
Popol Vuh,
The Dirtbombs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Hoover,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ludus,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.