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 Spain and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Shuggie Otis,
Unwound,
Basic Channel,
Los Fastidios,
Hardrive,
Sonic Youth,
The Seeds,
Lyres,
Eyeless In Gaza,
X-102,
Inner City,
Maleditus Sound,
Albert Ayler,
Qualms,
DNA,
David McCallum,
Zapp,
Soul Sonic Force,
Moss Icon,
Magazine,
Hoover,
Alice Coltrane,
The Dead C,
Faraquet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Joensuu 1685,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radio Birdman,
Mark Hollis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Soft Cell,
Wings,
Minny Pops,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pantaleimon,
Subhumans,
Von Mondo,
The Buckinghams,
Cheater Slicks,
kango's stein massive,
Stetsasonic,
Gil Scott Heron,
Make Up,
Josef K,
Oneida,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jesper Dahlback,
a-ha,
The Pretty Things,
Metal Thangz,
Roger Hodgson,
Graham Central Station,
L. Decosne,
Curtis Mayfield,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ponytail,
Eric B and Rakim,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.