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 Costa Rica and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
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 John Foxx to the crunk 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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Skarface,
Kerri Chandler,
Country Teasers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wings,
Barry Ungar,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jeff Lynne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Zapp,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fuzztones,
the Bar-Kays,
The Five Americans,
Bang On A Can,
Idris Muhammad,
Faust,
John Coltrane,
The Dead C,
The Fortunes,
The Names,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cymande,
The J.B.'s,
Albert Ayler,
The Pretty Things,
Lightning Bolt,
Tears for Fears,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Siglo XX,
New Age Steppers,
The Invisible,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
In Retrospect,
MC5,
Subhumans,
Bill Near,
Henry Cow,
Television Personalities,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Traffic Nightmare,
X-Ray Spex,
Iggy Pop,
JFA,
Depeche Mode,
Letta Mbulu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sun City Girls,
Kenny Larkin,
Yaz,
Hashim,
Porter Ricks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Barrington Levy,
Guru Guru,
Derrick May,
June of 44,
Gil Scott Heron,
Brand Nubian,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.