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 Ireland and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Beijing.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin 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 Henry Cow to the rock 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bill Near,
X-102,
Tres Demented,
Rod Modell,
Ohio Players,
Simply Red,
Gong,
DJ Sneak,
Eric B and Rakim,
Model 500,
Al Stewart,
The Misunderstood,
Essential Logic,
World's Most,
Marvin Gaye,
Niagra,
Mission of Burma,
Bronski Beat,
Charles Mingus,
Jimmy McGriff,
These Immortal Souls,
Pantaleimon,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Unrelated Segments,
The Barracudas,
Urselle,
Cheater Slicks,
The Zeros,
Tomorrow,
Lightning Bolt,
Erasure,
Pussy Galore,
Depeche Mode,
Erykah Badu,
F. McDonald,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Zero Boys,
Bush Tetras,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
DJ Style,
The Slackers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Morten Harket,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott Heron,
EPMD,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jeff Mills,
Flipper,
Lindisfarne,
Susan Cadogan,
Livin' Joy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ludus,
Jacques Brel,
Barclay James Harvest,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dawn Penn,
Crime,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.