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 India and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Can to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Busters. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Residents,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Letta Mbulu,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dave Gahan,
Ronan,
T.S.O.L.,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aswad,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Public Enemy,
Gang Starr,
The Golliwogs,
Steve Hackett,
Smog,
Jacob Miller,
Jacques Brel,
Judy Mowatt,
AZ,
Average White Band,
Maleditus Sound,
Newcleus,
Henry Cow,
Vainqueur,
Altered Images,
Lower 48,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Standells,
Mo-Dettes,
Adolescents,
Japan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Velvet Underground,
Avey Tare,
Blossom Toes,
The Stooges,
OOIOO,
Scientists,
Cameo,
World's Most,
Drexciya,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pulsallama,
Young Marble Giants,
Wolf Eyes,
Ultravox,
FM Einheit,
Con Funk Shun,
The Real Kids,
E-Dancer,
Banda Bassotti,
LL Cool J,
Marshall Jefferson,
Flash Fearless,
New York Dolls,
Unrelated Segments,
Faraquet,
The Techniques,
Cecil Taylor,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.