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 Luxembourg and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Pagans to the crunk 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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Eurythmics,
Crash Course in Science,
Yazoo,
Gichy Dan,
Derrick May,
The Fire Engines,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Peter & Gordon,
Wolf Eyes,
Zapp,
The Techniques,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sonic Youth,
Lou Christie,
Byron Stingily,
Suburban Knight,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Malaria!,
Colin Newman,
The Saints,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Toni Rubio,
Reuben Wilson,
Minutemen,
Dennis Brown,
Terrestrial Tones,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
H. Thieme,
Harry Pussy,
Mission of Burma,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Youth Brigade,
Severed Heads,
Patti Smith,
The Moody Blues,
Al Stewart,
In Retrospect,
the Slits,
This Heat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fuzztones,
Boogie Down Productions,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stiv Bators,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Accadde A,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nirvana,
Donny Hathaway,
Hasil Adkins,
Thee Headcoats,
Cecil Taylor,
Angry Samoans,
Pussy Galore,
Danielle Patucci,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Eddi Front,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.