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 Cape Verde and from Mexico City.
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 Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Cluster to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Whodini,
Nirvana,
The Tremeloes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marmalade,
Pere Ubu,
the Normal,
Sugar Minott,
Lungfish,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mad Mike,
Outsiders,
Moss Icon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Swell Maps,
Dead Boys,
Ice-T,
Public Enemy,
Joyce Sims,
Erasure,
Theoretical Girls,
Echospace,
EPMD,
Marcia Griffiths,
Guru Guru,
Khruangbin,
Sexual Harrassment,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kerrie Biddell,
Arcadia,
Sister Nancy,
Con Funk Shun,
Hashim,
Sun City Girls,
The United States of America,
Television,
Wasted Youth,
Jacob Miller,
Freddie Wadling,
Lebanon Hanover,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Gun Club,
The Angels of Light,
Cameo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jeff Lynne,
Slick Rick,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Blackbyrds,
Surgeon,
The Red Krayola,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Los Fastidios,
The Gap Band,
Danielle Patucci,
FM Einheit,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Faust,
Yaz,
Warren Ellis,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.