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 Ethiopia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Connie Case,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mr. Review,
Jawbox,
The Walker Brothers,
Intrusion,
Boredoms,
F. McDonald,
The United States of America,
The Toasters,
The Saints,
The Smoke,
The Move,
Andrew Hill,
Soulsonic Force,
The Dead C,
Jeff Mills,
The Young Rascals,
Gang Gang Dance,
Deakin,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mo-Dettes,
Derrick May,
Soft Cell,
The Slits,
Sight & Sound,
Television,
the Sonics,
The Monks,
Kaleidoscope,
The Golliwogs,
Kenny Larkin,
Gong,
Basic Channel,
Aural Exciters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Knickerbockers,
Slick Rick,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Yusef Lateef,
Young Marble Giants,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ronan,
Radiohead,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bronski Beat,
Bluetip,
Spoonie Gee,
The Searchers,
Anthony Braxton,
H. Thieme,
PIL,
Byron Stingily,
Davy DMX,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Von Mondo,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Remains,
Todd Terry,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.