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 South Sudan and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Harry Pussy to the dance 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Negative Approach,
JFA,
Ice-T,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Neil Young,
the Association,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sixth Finger,
Underground Resistance,
Jandek,
The Seeds,
Todd Rundgren,
Sister Nancy,
Fat Boys,
Little Man,
The J.B.'s,
Monolake,
David Bowie,
Eric Copeland,
Black Bananas,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Five Americans,
Average White Band,
Sun City Girls,
Althea and Donna,
Alison Limerick,
ABBA,
The Grass Roots,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Dirtbombs,
The Selecter,
Gichy Dan,
Roxy Music,
Marc Almond,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cheater Slicks,
Depeche Mode,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Sound,
Charles Mingus,
Liliput,
Alice Coltrane,
Hasil Adkins,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rosa Yemen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lalann,
Bob Dylan,
Davy DMX,
In Retrospect,
Kevin Saunderson,
Slick Rick,
Metal Thangz,
Television Personalities,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Interpol,
Pharoah Sanders,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.