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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Holger Czukay 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the dance 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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Public Enemy,
The Young Rascals,
Warsaw,
Lightning Bolt,
Silicon Teens,
Joey Negro,
The Barracudas,
New Age Steppers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Sheep,
The Remains,
Robert Wyatt,
Harry Pussy,
The Busters,
The Names,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Joyce Sims,
Kerri Chandler,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sugar Minott,
Black Moon,
Excepter,
China Crisis,
Mark Hollis,
Pussy Galore,
MC5,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Minnie Riperton,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bush Tetras,
Slick Rick,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scratch Acid,
Sam Rivers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Al Stewart,
Urselle,
The Knickerbockers,
Underground Resistance,
Boredoms,
The United States of America,
Bill Near,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Drive Like Jehu,
Zapp,
Schoolly D,
The Selecter,
The Buckinghams,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Josef K,
Wally Richardson,
Ten City,
Janne Schatter,
David Axelrod,
F. McDonald,
Kenny Larkin,
Section 25,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Swans,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.