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 Johannesburg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Last Poets to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Barrington Levy,
The Star Department,
Y Pants,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Connie Case,
Susan Cadogan,
Index,
The Count Five,
Marc Almond,
Visage,
Byron Stingily,
Sexual Harrassment,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Man Eating Sloth,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Babytalk,
T. Rex,
Al Stewart,
Easy Going,
Isaac Hayes,
Junior Murvin,
Saccharine Trust,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deepchord,
Blake Baxter,
Neu!,
Severed Heads,
Davy DMX,
Barbara Tucker,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Tom Boy,
Black Bananas,
F. McDonald,
The Vogues,
Judy Mowatt,
Eve St. Jones,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hot Snakes,
The Golliwogs,
Radio Birdman,
Laurel Aitken,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lalann,
Juan Atkins,
Technova,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marine Girls,
The Gladiators,
Traffic Nightmare,
Darondo,
The Kinks,
Moss Icon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Royal Trux,
China Crisis,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.