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 Gabon and from Manila.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Shoche to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
JFA,
The Blackbyrds,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Crime,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Chris Corsano,
Fat Boys,
Trumans Water,
The Slits,
The Human League,
Charles Mingus,
Underground Resistance,
The Index,
Black Pus,
Graham Central Station,
Gabor Szabo,
Alphaville,
Lee Hazlewood,
Robert Hood,
Agitation Free,
Pantytec,
E-Dancer,
Wasted Youth,
The Associates,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
T. Rex,
Swans,
Vladislav Delay,
Joe Finger,
Blake Baxter,
Monolake,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lakeside,
The Moody Blues,
Prince Buster,
Au Pairs,
Slave,
The Sonics,
The Divine Comedy,
Sun City Girls,
Todd Rundgren,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Bar-Kays,
Barrington Levy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jimmy McGriff,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Brothers Johnson,
Henry Cow,
Second Layer,
Wings,
The Misunderstood,
Moss Icon,
Roger Hodgson,
Joy Division,
Marcia Griffiths,
Porter Ricks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.