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 Denmark and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
The Moleskins,
Todd Terry,
Yusef Lateef,
H. Thieme,
UT,
Index,
Ronnie Foster,
Newcleus,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Bar-Kays,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Pus,
Bush Tetras,
DNA,
X-101,
Technova,
Pantytec,
Black Flag,
Cluster,
Don Cherry,
The Dirtbombs,
Rosa Yemen,
Magazine,
Sparks,
The Fuzztones,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Byrd,
The Electric Prunes,
Lou Reed,
Prince Buster,
Mark Hollis,
Jacob Miller,
Black Bananas,
Swell Maps,
Ludus,
Deakin,
Severed Heads,
K-Klass,
Sister Nancy,
Grandmaster Flash,
Brass Construction,
Jandek,
Moebius,
Erykah Badu,
Model 500,
Nation of Ulysses,
Angry Samoans,
Al Stewart,
Main Source,
Television Personalities,
Skriet,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Grass Roots,
Oblivians,
D'Angelo,
Liliput,
Erasure,
Franke,
Black Moon,
Rites of Spring,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.