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 Djibouti and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sound Behaviour to the rap 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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Index,
Traffic Nightmare,
The J.B.'s,
Brick,
The Pretty Things,
Henry Cow,
Lower 48,
Unwound,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
T.S.O.L.,
Alice Coltrane,
Delta 5,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marmalade,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Colin Newman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Moss Icon,
Magazine,
Suicide,
Niagra,
The Gladiators,
Guru Guru,
Lou Reed,
Rites of Spring,
Yellowson,
Schoolly D,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Blake Baxter,
L. Decosne,
The Trojans,
Scientists,
Harmonia,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Busters,
Erykah Badu,
Ken Boothe,
La Düsseldorf,
Drexciya,
The Grass Roots,
Chris Corsano,
Soul II Soul,
DNA,
Infiniti,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Faust,
Gang Starr,
Donny Hathaway,
Sarah Menescal,
This Heat,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ultimate Spinach,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Last Poets,
Moby Grape,
Wasted Youth,
Donald Byrd,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boogie Down Productions,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.