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 Dominican Republic and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Detroit Cobras to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Desert Stars,
The Skatalites,
These Immortal Souls,
the Bar-Kays,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roy Ayers,
Quando Quango,
The Mummies,
Maurizio,
Aural Exciters,
Angry Samoans,
Mantronix,
Bobby Hutcherson,
UT,
Mr. Review,
Bobby Womack,
Outsiders,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roger Hodgson,
Faust,
Wasted Youth,
Urselle,
Cheater Slicks,
Matthew Halsall,
Mars,
Inner City,
Stockholm Monsters,
Carl Craig,
Warsaw,
Sandy B,
The Cramps,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Detroit Cobras,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Move,
Drexciya,
Yaz,
Jerry's Kids,
Rod Modell,
Mandrill,
Amon Düül II,
Trumans Water,
The Dirtbombs,
Donny Hathaway,
Hasil Adkins,
Derrick Morgan,
The Saints,
Gabor Szabo,
Technova,
Amazonics,
the Normal,
Negative Approach,
The Fall,
Yusef Lateef,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Easy Going,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Television,
Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag.
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.