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 Yemen and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Von Mondo to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mantronix. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Fugs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Swans,
Nico,
The Gap Band,
The Trojans,
Ronan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
These Immortal Souls,
a-ha,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dual Sessions,
World's Most,
Infiniti,
Nick Fraelich,
Connie Case,
Soulsonic Force,
Yusef Lateef,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lower 48,
Minor Threat,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
X-101,
The Knickerbockers,
Idris Muhammad,
Tears for Fears,
Rufus Thomas,
cv313,
The Victims,
Moss Icon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Flipper,
Sarah Menescal,
The Moody Blues,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
DNA,
Warsaw,
The Fall,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
La Düsseldorf,
Ludus,
Glenn Branca,
E-Dancer,
Quando Quango,
Rakim,
Derrick May,
Kas Product,
Massinfluence,
Boogie Down Productions,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cybotron,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.