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 Mongolia and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Spokane.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Tomorrow to the rap 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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Tommy Roe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
The American Breed,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bronski Beat,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Fania All-Stars,
Agent Orange,
Ronnie Foster,
Siglo XX,
The Pretty Things,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ludus,
Aaron Thompson,
Lightning Bolt,
Funkadelic,
Isaac Hayes,
Drexciya,
Depeche Mode,
Loose Ends,
The Fortunes,
Camouflage,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bill Wells,
The Associates,
Drive Like Jehu,
ABBA,
Pulsallama,
UT,
Royal Trux,
Smog,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
World's Most,
Scrapy,
The J.B.'s,
Dark Day,
Altered Images,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Toasters,
Pantaleimon,
Zero Boys,
Slave,
Dual Sessions,
Adolescents,
Panda Bear,
the Normal,
JFA,
The Barracudas,
The Birthday Party,
Idris Muhammad,
Public Enemy,
Yusef Lateef,
David Bowie,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bobby Womack,
Crispy Ambulance,
Section 25,
Gang Gang Dance,
China Crisis,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.