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 Portugal and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ 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 The Buckinghams 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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
Blancmange,
Half Japanese,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Move,
The Monks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
JFA,
Radiopuhelimet,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
MDC,
Junior Murvin,
Alison Limerick,
The Mummies,
Bob Dylan,
48th St. Collective,
Fugazi,
Qualms,
Danielle Patucci,
Bang On A Can,
Althea and Donna,
Young Marble Giants,
Radio Birdman,
The Standells,
Ornette Coleman,
Nik Kershaw,
Maurizio,
Delon & Dalcan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minny Pops,
Monks,
Derrick May,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Smoke,
Desert Stars,
Harry Pussy,
Spandau Ballet,
Von Mondo,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kaleidoscope,
The Pop Group,
Metal Thangz,
The Sonics,
Gichy Dan,
Ultravox,
Bobby Womack,
Leonard Cohen,
Arcadia,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Malaria!,
Echospace,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Real Kids,
Y Pants,
Eli Mardock,
Cameo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Neon Judgement,
the Normal,
John Foxx,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.