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 Tajikistan and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Matthew Halsall to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eden Ahbez record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Saccharine Trust,
Harmonia,
The Names,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Avey Tare,
Icehouse,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Spandau Ballet,
X-Ray Spex,
Ten City,
The Buckinghams,
The Stooges,
Hot Snakes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gerry Rafferty,
Theoretical Girls,
Sarah Menescal,
Dawn Penn,
Marmalade,
Tim Buckley,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Standells,
Yaz,
The Dirtbombs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Marc Almond,
Harry Pussy,
The Young Rascals,
Lee Hazlewood,
Derrick May,
Ludus,
Lyres,
Reagan Youth,
Kayak,
Trumans Water,
The Vogues,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
La Düsseldorf,
Curtis Mayfield,
Television,
The Tremeloes,
Rapeman,
World's Most,
Blake Baxter,
Soft Cell,
Roy Ayers,
Groovy Waters,
Minny Pops,
Vladislav Delay,
Prince Buster,
Unwound,
Swans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lakeside,
The Toasters,
Inner City,
Arthur Verocai,
Monks,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.