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 Slovakia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the oboe 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 Eve St. Jones to the funk 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Robert Wyatt,
Unrelated Segments,
Derrick May,
DJ Style,
Circle Jerks,
Von Mondo,
Clear Light,
Faust,
Black Moon,
Chris Corsano,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soft Cell,
Crooked Eye,
Cluster,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fad Gadget,
Swell Maps,
Pagans,
The Fuzztones,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Moby Grape,
Eden Ahbez,
Lightning Bolt,
Blancmange,
Bang On A Can,
Sun Ra,
Traffic Nightmare,
Young Marble Giants,
Little Man,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gabor Szabo,
Grauzone,
Trumans Water,
The Red Krayola,
Slick Rick,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Loose Ends,
Sly & The Family Stone,
James White and The Blacks,
Hot Snakes,
Bobby Womack,
Funky Four + One,
Eurythmics,
Scott Walker,
The Beau Brummels,
The Dirtbombs,
Black Sheep,
Scientists,
The Moody Blues,
Black Pus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fugs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Golliwogs,
Model 500,
Lyres,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.