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 Eritrea and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Danielle Patucci to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Andrew Hill,
The Litter,
Yaz,
Scrapy,
The Zeros,
The Raincoats,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eric Dolphy,
The Star Department,
The Saints,
Model 500,
Sex Pistols,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Carl Craig,
Ronnie Foster,
Aaron Thompson,
Tears for Fears,
Joe Smooth,
The Index,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Yellowson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Barry Ungar,
Zapp,
Moebius,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Jacques Brel,
Nick Fraelich,
Don Cherry,
Erasure,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Susan Cadogan,
Franke,
Scientists,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fad Gadget,
Bluetip,
Electric Prunes,
This Heat,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ultra Naté,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jandek,
The Searchers,
The Monochrome Set,
Unrelated Segments,
Index,
Deakin,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
the Normal,
Fela Kuti,
La Düsseldorf,
Icehouse,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.