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 Sweden and from Shanghai.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Eli Mardock to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe 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 mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
This Heat,
Alice Coltrane,
8 Eyed Spy,
Black Moon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Association,
Bob Dylan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sonny Sharrock,
Freddie Wadling,
Minutemen,
Bad Manners,
Slick Rick,
The Names,
Lower 48,
The Divine Comedy,
ABBA,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Radiopuhelimet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
FM Einheit,
Jacob Miller,
John Cale,
Josef K,
Q and Not U,
Youth Brigade,
Young Marble Giants,
The Buckinghams,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Sheep,
New Order,
Iggy Pop,
Theoretical Girls,
The Pretty Things,
The Busters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Buzzcocks,
The Young Rascals,
Cecil Taylor,
Cheater Slicks,
Nils Olav,
Connie Case,
Drexciya,
The Human League,
Sugar Minott,
Byron Stingily,
The Durutti Column,
Andrew Hill,
Rapeman,
Tim Buckley,
These Immortal Souls,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Scientists,
David Axelrod,
Kevin Saunderson,
Traffic Nightmare,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gang of Four,
Jawbox,
Bill Wells,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.