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 Lithuania and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Magma to the electroclash 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
The Invisible,
Stereo Dub,
The Last Poets,
Brass Construction,
Robert Wyatt,
Scratch Acid,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pantaleimon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Hoover,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fatback Band,
Marmalade,
Icehouse,
Funky Four + One,
Radio Birdman,
Peter and Kerry,
Malaria!,
Tommy Roe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Swans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Alarm Clocks,
Altered Images,
Rosa Yemen,
Jacques Brel,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Popol Vuh,
Crime,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mark Hollis,
The Smoke,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Spandau Ballet,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Man Eating Sloth,
UT,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Outsiders,
Lakeside,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Underground Resistance,
The Fire Engines,
Shoche,
Mr. Review,
Reuben Wilson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Slave,
Dark Day,
Das Ding,
Infiniti,
The Pretty Things,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Main Source,
Eli Mardock,
Rekid,
Yaz,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.