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 Slovenia and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Danielle Patucci,
Crime,
Subhumans,
Pet Shop Boys,
Swans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Von Mondo,
The Evens,
Robert Hood,
Pagans,
D'Angelo,
Rites of Spring,
Stockholm Monsters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bad Manners,
Arthur Verocai,
the Bar-Kays,
Terry Callier,
Jesper Dahlback,
New Age Steppers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Drexciya,
The Cure,
The Doors,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tim Buckley,
Aural Exciters,
Ossler,
Brick,
Flash Fearless,
the Normal,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mark Hollis,
Soft Machine,
The Modern Lovers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jeff Mills,
F. McDonald,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Slackers,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Divine Comedy,
Ohio Players,
Tears for Fears,
John Lydon,
Technova,
Delta 5,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Residents,
The Martian,
Pulsallama,
Loose Ends,
Bronski Beat,
Basic Channel,
Scientists,
Zero Boys,
B.T. Express,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.