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 Israel and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Freddie Wadling to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Anakelly,
Ultimate Spinach,
Second Layer,
The Toasters,
Joe Smooth,
Yazoo,
The Doors,
Nirvana,
Au Pairs,
Jandek,
Amazonics,
The Cure,
Pierre Henry,
The Pretty Things,
The Fortunes,
Moebius,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nick Fraelich,
Boogie Down Productions,
A Flock of Seagulls,
B.T. Express,
Porter Ricks,
Essential Logic,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pylon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kevin Saunderson,
X-102,
Altered Images,
Crooked Eye,
DJ Sneak,
F. McDonald,
Gichy Dan,
Danielle Patucci,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marmalade,
Derrick Morgan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Moon,
The Stooges,
John Cale,
Tomorrow,
Rod Modell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Faust,
Banda Bassotti,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sex Pistols,
Malaria!,
L. Decosne,
Fela Kuti,
Cymande,
Clear Light,
Amon Düül II,
Unrelated Segments,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Magma,
Oneida,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.