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 Belize and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Franke to the dance 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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Saccharine Trust,
The Alarm Clocks,
T. Rex,
DNA,
Ituana,
Patti Smith,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Unwound,
the Swans,
Television,
Stiv Bators,
Eddi Front,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Foxx,
The Grass Roots,
Black Pus,
Trumans Water,
Echospace,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rekid,
Roger Hodgson,
The Blues Magoos,
Vainqueur,
Crooked Eye,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Martian,
Kenny Larkin,
the Slits,
Monolake,
Symarip,
The Misunderstood,
World's Most,
The Fortunes,
Nirvana,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Quantec,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ornette Coleman,
Sandy B,
Second Layer,
Robert Görl,
The Stooges,
Buzzcocks,
Das Ding,
Circle Jerks,
The Index,
Reuben Wilson,
Livin' Joy,
Henry Cow,
Mantronix,
Al Stewart,
E-Dancer,
June Days,
Model 500,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pantaleimon,
Charles Mingus,
The Velvet Underground,
10cc, 10cc, 10cc, 10cc.
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.