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 Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 güiro 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 Magazine to the punk 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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eve St. Jones,
Ituana,
the Normal,
The Five Americans,
Jeff Lynne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Q65,
Mr. Review,
The Velvet Underground,
Mad Mike,
Tim Buckley,
Colin Newman,
Idris Muhammad,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Buzzcocks,
Bauhaus,
The Gap Band,
Cheater Slicks,
DJ Sneak,
Rufus Thomas,
The Doobie Brothers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cybotron,
Sixth Finger,
Sällskapet,
Minor Threat,
Angry Samoans,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Bananas,
ABBA,
Ronan,
Henry Cow,
Reuben Wilson,
Japan,
Zapp,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Dawn Penn,
Newcleus,
Rotary Connection,
T.S.O.L.,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ludus,
the Sonics,
Stiv Bators,
Sex Pistols,
Gastr Del Sol,
Trumans Water,
The Leaves,
Marvin Gaye,
Interpol,
Public Enemy,
Agent Orange,
Moebius,
Average White Band,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
John Lydon,
The Residents,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.