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 Liberia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rotary Connection to the electroclash 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Rosa Yemen,
Make Up,
Pantytec,
Hoover,
Tres Demented,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Searchers,
T. Rex,
Alton Ellis,
The Selecter,
Sarah Menescal,
Can,
Main Source,
Todd Terry,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Raincoats,
Amon Düül,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
John Cale,
Lou Reed,
Yaz,
Quantec,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tears for Fears,
Electric Prunes,
Smog,
Q65,
The Golliwogs,
Lyres,
Joensuu 1685,
Index,
Kas Product,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Con Funk Shun,
Metal Thangz,
Erasure,
Dave Gahan,
Andrew Hill,
Davy DMX,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Anthony Braxton,
Reagan Youth,
The United States of America,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dead C,
Wolf Eyes,
Marmalade,
Ultimate Spinach,
Althea and Donna,
Joe Finger,
Lightning Bolt,
Traffic Nightmare,
Faust,
Sonny Sharrock,
Procol Harum,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nation of Ulysses,
Todd Rundgren,
Sound Behaviour,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.