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 Iran and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lightning Bolt to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Sparks,
the Normal,
Sun Ra,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Chrome,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Joensuu 1685,
Reagan Youth,
The Stooges,
Brothers Johnson,
Rosa Yemen,
Echospace,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Franke,
Half Japanese,
Bizarre Inc.,
Hardrive,
Eve St. Jones,
Michelle Simonal,
K-Klass,
Freddie Wadling,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bill Wells,
The Blackbyrds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Traffic Nightmare,
Althea and Donna,
Rod Modell,
Subhumans,
Crash Course in Science,
The Flesh Eaters,
Niagra,
Q and Not U,
U.S. Maple,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Interpol,
The Red Krayola,
Charles Mingus,
The Smoke,
The Searchers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gong,
Isaac Hayes,
The Residents,
Derrick Morgan,
The Fortunes,
Pantaleimon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roy Ayers,
Lucky Dragons,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
FM Einheit,
Funkadelic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Skriet,
Severed Heads,
The Moleskins,
Black Pus,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.