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 Italy and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Zeros to the disco 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
The Move,
Rod Modell,
Swell Maps,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Vladislav Delay,
World's Most,
Donald Byrd,
John Holt,
The Tremeloes,
Stockholm Monsters,
UT,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Martian,
The United States of America,
Amon Düül,
Monks,
Funkadelic,
Minnie Riperton,
The J.B.'s,
Anakelly,
Khruangbin,
Harmonia,
Bill Wells,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alphaville,
Symarip,
Roy Ayers,
The Invisible,
R.M.O.,
The Last Poets,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rotary Connection,
Erasure,
Peter & Gordon,
Jerry's Kids,
Mandrill,
Eve St. Jones,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Slits,
Skriet,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rufus Thomas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The New Christs,
Boredoms,
Arcadia,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Half Japanese,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fela Kuti,
Cymande,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Offenders,
Organ,
Scan 7,
the Normal,
Ohio Players,
Cluster,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.