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 Malaysia and from Calgary.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Doors to the disco 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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Jeru the Damaja,
Boogie Down Productions,
Toni Rubio,
Desert Stars,
KRS-One,
UT,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Flamin' Groovies,
Infiniti,
Buzzcocks,
Scan 7,
Tubeway Army,
Maleditus Sound,
Eden Ahbez,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crash Course in Science,
Amazonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Alarm Clocks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Skatalites,
Q65,
The Fugs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Scratch Acid,
the Swans,
Ornette Coleman,
Warren Ellis,
The Raincoats,
Minor Threat,
The Walker Brothers,
Joensuu 1685,
The Dirtbombs,
Sugar Minott,
Amon Düül,
The Gun Club,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Fire Engines,
Sarah Menescal,
World's Most,
X-102,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sonic Youth,
Spoonie Gee,
Pierre Henry,
Main Source,
Rufus Thomas,
Cheater Slicks,
Flash Fearless,
Isaac Hayes,
The Blackbyrds,
LL Cool J,
Don Cherry,
Jacques Brel,
Lou Reed,
The Selecter,
Flipper,
The Human League,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.