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 Tunisia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Spokane.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Y Pants to the electroclash 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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Dawn Penn,
Make Up,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lightning Bolt,
Gong,
Lalo Schifrin,
Judy Mowatt,
Trumans Water,
Brand Nubian,
Terry Callier,
The Litter,
the Normal,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fad Gadget,
Eden Ahbez,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pierre Henry,
Cameo,
Kayak,
The Velvet Underground,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sun Ra,
Connie Case,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Offenders,
Pantaleimon,
David Axelrod,
Soul II Soul,
Buzzcocks,
Joey Negro,
Nick Fraelich,
The Saints,
Gichy Dan,
The United States of America,
Cal Tjader,
Essential Logic,
The Dead C,
The Five Americans,
Joe Finger,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Byrd,
the Swans,
Derrick Morgan,
Sight & Sound,
Intrusion,
E-Dancer,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Zapp,
The Slits,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Dirtbombs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tim Buckley,
Slave,
Faust,
Cybotron,
Scientists,
Alison Limerick,
The Mummies,
Johnny Clarke,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.