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 Kuwait and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the 808 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 Black Flag to the grunge 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Jesus and Mary Chain record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Cal Tjader,
Avey Tare,
Arab on Radar,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Fatback Band,
Dawn Penn,
Piero Umiliani,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Busters,
Royal Trux,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
AZ,
Harry Pussy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Deakin,
Massinfluence,
Audionom,
Soft Machine,
Eric Copeland,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
These Immortal Souls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lucky Dragons,
The Associates,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Lydon,
Second Layer,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mission of Burma,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Shoche,
The Move,
Public Enemy,
Minutemen,
Theoretical Girls,
The Toasters,
Pussy Galore,
Gong,
Graham Central Station,
Moebius,
Index,
The Standells,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Skriet,
Glenn Branca,
Jeru the Damaja,
Icehouse,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Television,
Banda Bassotti,
Lakeside,
Frankie Knuckles,
June Days,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gerry Rafferty,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.