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 Tonga and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Stockholm.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 B.T. Express to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Fugazi,
Monks,
Godley & Creme,
The Velvet Underground,
Howard Jones,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Litter,
the Germs,
Kaleidoscope,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Knickerbockers,
Tubeway Army,
The New Christs,
Shuggie Otis,
ABC,
Terrestrial Tones,
Skriet,
Roxette,
Iggy Pop,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sugar Minott,
The Raincoats,
Visage,
Pagans,
The Beau Brummels,
Symarip,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Simply Red,
The Misunderstood,
Patti Smith,
Faraquet,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ituana,
T.S.O.L.,
Saccharine Trust,
Sister Nancy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Golliwogs,
Susan Cadogan,
Ornette Coleman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Delon & Dalcan,
Trumans Water,
Magma,
Maleditus Sound,
Funky Four + One,
Marvin Gaye,
Scan 7,
Bob Dylan,
Soulsonic Force,
Tommy Roe,
The Slits,
Wasted Youth,
The Gories,
Terry Callier,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.