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 Italy and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Houston.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Wally Richardson,
Absolute Body Control,
Janne Schatter,
Vainqueur,
Angry Samoans,
Monks,
Dawn Penn,
The Electric Prunes,
Severed Heads,
Cheater Slicks,
Shoche,
Mr. Review,
MC5,
Make Up,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
New Age Steppers,
a-ha,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Joe Finger,
Sällskapet,
Eve St. Jones,
Harpers Bizarre,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Altered Images,
John Holt,
The Martian,
Colin Newman,
Ronan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Scratch Acid,
DJ Style,
Model 500,
Symarip,
Qualms,
Piero Umiliani,
Tomorrow,
Kayak,
the Germs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Al Stewart,
The Fugs,
Derrick May,
The Last Poets,
The Litter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Faraquet,
Sight & Sound,
Audionom,
Mandrill,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Womack,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Neon Judgement,
Negative Approach,
The Leaves,
The Count Five,
Ultra Naté,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Cure,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.