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 Mauritius and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Dirtbombs to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Tom Boy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Josef K,
Alice Coltrane,
Underground Resistance,
Black Pus,
The Evens,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bob Dylan,
Eden Ahbez,
F. McDonald,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Saccharine Trust,
Sarah Menescal,
Bush Tetras,
Icehouse,
Faraquet,
Big Daddy Kane,
Oblivians,
Juan Atkins,
Dawn Penn,
Reagan Youth,
Unwound,
These Immortal Souls,
Tropical Tobacco,
Japan,
The Happenings,
The Offenders,
Little Man,
La Düsseldorf,
James White and The Blacks,
Lucky Dragons,
Skarface,
Agent Orange,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Pop Group,
Alison Limerick,
Gang of Four,
Cal Tjader,
Suicide,
The Moody Blues,
Inner City,
Albert Ayler,
Ituana,
Jacob Miller,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ice-T,
The Stooges,
ABBA,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Real Kids,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Con Funk Shun,
The Searchers,
Scott Walker,
Kerri Chandler,
Popol Vuh,
Freddie Wadling,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.