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 Equatorial Guinea and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Little Man to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Ice-T,
the Bar-Kays,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jerry's Kids,
Goldenarms,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dawn Penn,
Reuben Wilson,
U.S. Maple,
Amazonics,
Mantronix,
Arab on Radar,
Rosa Yemen,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Electric Prunes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Sonics,
Spoonie Gee,
Japan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cluster,
Joy Division,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Slits,
Marshall Jefferson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
John Foxx,
Lee Hazlewood,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marine Girls,
Bronski Beat,
Maurizio,
Excepter,
Chrome,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Big Daddy Kane,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Barry Ungar,
Pagans,
Black Bananas,
Cybotron,
Lindisfarne,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Buzzcocks,
The Residents,
Shoche,
Bluetip,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Blues Magoos,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Grey Daturas,
The Buckinghams,
The Young Rascals,
Leonard Cohen,
Sister Nancy,
Cheater Slicks,
the Germs,
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground.
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.