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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Trojans to the rock 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 Gichy Dan. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Average White Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Chris Corsano,
Radiohead,
Black Pus,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Vogues,
Robert Görl,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Connie Case,
Sarah Menescal,
Be Bop Deluxe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jawbox,
David McCallum,
48th St. Collective,
Donny Hathaway,
Bush Tetras,
Kurtis Blow,
Carl Craig,
Fluxion,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
kango's stein massive,
Frankie Knuckles,
Banda Bassotti,
Marmalade,
The Cure,
Donald Byrd,
Ituana,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pantytec,
Intrusion,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sonny Sharrock,
Johnny Clarke,
Mad Mike,
Blossom Toes,
Ronnie Foster,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
China Crisis,
Zapp,
Section 25,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eli Mardock,
Man Parrish,
L. Decosne,
The Monks,
The Fuzztones,
Drexciya,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marshall Jefferson,
Procol Harum,
Qualms,
Gang of Four,
Glenn Branca,
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Pretty Things,
The Knickerbockers,
the Human League,
Eric Dolphy,
The Victims,
Danielle Patucci,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.