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 Sri Lanka and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Glasgow.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
Minny Pops,
Judy Mowatt,
JFA,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sandy B,
Ultra Naté,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Traffic Nightmare,
Erasure,
Rufus Thomas,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marine Girls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Durutti Column,
Urselle,
Susan Cadogan,
The Alarm Clocks,
Khruangbin,
Guru Guru,
Yusef Lateef,
The Neon Judgement,
In Retrospect,
Mr. Review,
Mark Hollis,
Soul Sonic Force,
Cluster,
Sparks,
Vainqueur,
The Dirtbombs,
Inner City,
Roxette,
Soulsonic Force,
Darondo,
Max Romeo,
Roxy Music,
Desert Stars,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Modern Lovers,
Tubeway Army,
Masters at Work,
Clear Light,
Donny Hathaway,
Hardrive,
The Buckinghams,
Crash Course in Science,
Yaz,
The Zeros,
The Moody Blues,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Index,
Terry Callier,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Skatalites,
The Saints,
Scott Walker,
Bobby Sherman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Joe Finger,
Bush Tetras,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.