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 South Sudan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the sitar 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 Association to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gang Starr,
The Litter,
Junior Murvin,
the Human League,
The Star Department,
David McCallum,
Saccharine Trust,
PIL,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lungfish,
Funky Four + One,
Laurel Aitken,
Nation of Ulysses,
Make Up,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pulsallama,
Ultimate Spinach,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Depeche Mode,
Gang of Four,
Kas Product,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kurtis Blow,
Das Ding,
Soul Sonic Force,
Connie Case,
Public Image Ltd.,
Urselle,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Ponytail,
Flipper,
Mark Hollis,
Cecil Taylor,
John Coltrane,
The United States of America,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pagans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Remains,
Goldenarms,
The Busters,
Patti Smith,
R.M.O.,
Rufus Thomas,
Los Fastidios,
Yaz,
The Stooges,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Fugs,
Audionom,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Martian,
DJ Sneak,
X-102,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Offenders,
Chris Corsano,
Sister Nancy,
Black Moon,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.