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 Lesotho and from Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 H. Thieme to the electroclash 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
John Coltrane,
Intrusion,
Eddi Front,
MDC,
Deadbeat,
Ultra Naté,
Bill Wells,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Slick Rick,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Young Marble Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rakim,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mad Mike,
X-101,
Henry Cow,
Amon Düül,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Toasters,
Sam Rivers,
Joensuu 1685,
Camouflage,
The Zeros,
Wire,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Stooges,
Cal Tjader,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
June of 44,
Bluetip,
Surgeon,
Amon Düül II,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
the Swans,
Cheater Slicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Dirtbombs,
Aaron Thompson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wings,
Zapp,
Magazine,
Ituana,
Marshall Jefferson,
Chris Corsano,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sixth Finger,
LL Cool J,
The Gories,
The Happenings,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Saccharine Trust,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Magma,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kurtis Blow,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.