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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Royal Family And The Poor to the punk 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Von Mondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Gang Green,
Simply Red,
Unrelated Segments,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Thompson Twins,
Flipper,
Newcleus,
Joensuu 1685,
Bobby Womack,
Ronan,
Bush Tetras,
Ultravox,
Lower 48,
Graham Central Station,
Trumans Water,
The Star Department,
Nas,
Pussy Galore,
Cluster,
The Evens,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Susan Cadogan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Cal Tjader,
Suicide,
Cymande,
Terrestrial Tones,
Unwound,
Moebius,
A Certain Ratio,
Radio Birdman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Prince Buster,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kas Product,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Cameo,
the Association,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jandek,
Symarip,
the Fania All-Stars,
This Heat,
The Sonics,
Monolake,
Man Parrish,
Sound Behaviour,
Terry Callier,
Howard Jones,
Al Stewart,
KRS-One,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Flag,
Robert Görl,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Velvet Underground,
The Smiths,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.