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 Romania and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Monolake to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter & Gordon,
Talk Talk,
Agitation Free,
Warsaw,
Harpers Bizarre,
Juan Atkins,
Pere Ubu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eve St. Jones,
Jimmy McGriff,
Accadde A,
Monks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Magazine,
Little Man,
Mo-Dettes,
Tears for Fears,
Unwound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Motorama,
Davy DMX,
Severed Heads,
Anakelly,
Lightning Bolt,
Arcadia,
Camberwell Now,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Birthday Party,
The Golliwogs,
Anthony Braxton,
The Last Poets,
Shuggie Otis,
The Cowsills,
Inner City,
The Velvet Underground,
Todd Rundgren,
Janne Schatter,
Yazoo,
Roger Hodgson,
Goldenarms,
Flipper,
Leonard Cohen,
Technova,
The Angels of Light,
Ossler,
Thee Headcoats,
The Cure,
Sun Ra,
Yaz,
Jeru the Damaja,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mr. Review,
48th St. Collective,
Deadbeat,
The Toasters,
a-ha,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Audionom,
Gang Starr,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.