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 Gabon and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba 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 Joey Negro to the grunge 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Spandau Ballet,
Country Teasers,
Barbara Tucker,
These Immortal Souls,
Smog,
The Buckinghams,
Nas,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scan 7,
Connie Case,
Negative Approach,
Dual Sessions,
Amon Düül,
One Last Wish,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dorothy Ashby,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Henry Cow,
Flash Fearless,
ABBA,
Gabor Szabo,
Amazonics,
This Heat,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Skarface,
Gil Scott Heron,
Chris Corsano,
Khruangbin,
The Busters,
Jeff Mills,
The Fire Engines,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eli Mardock,
Fat Boys,
Babytalk,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gong,
Brass Construction,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Oblivians,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Junior Murvin,
The Gap Band,
Todd Rundgren,
Charles Mingus,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Vogues,
Barry Ungar,
Symarip,
Pole,
Ultravox,
R.M.O.,
Deakin,
Matthew Bourne,
The Happenings,
Sam Rivers,
Joe Smooth,
Steve Hackett,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joy Division,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.