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 Dominican Republic and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Rapeman to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Shoche,
Peter & Gordon,
Bronski Beat,
Roxette,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lower 48,
Barry Ungar,
The Misunderstood,
Al Stewart,
X-101,
Little Man,
Ultra Naté,
Dawn Penn,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lou Reed,
Swans,
Albert Ayler,
Eurythmics,
Clear Light,
The Knickerbockers,
Scott Walker,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Swell Maps,
The Toasters,
The Associates,
The Monks,
The Techniques,
Colin Newman,
Sugar Minott,
Goldenarms,
Scratch Acid,
The Wake,
The Gories,
Oneida,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The American Breed,
Blossom Toes,
The Moleskins,
Soft Cell,
Malaria!,
Parry Music,
Monolake,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Mojo Men,
Mad Mike,
The Martian,
the Normal,
Judy Mowatt,
Intrusion,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sonny Sharrock,
Prince Buster,
Fatback Band,
Banda Bassotti,
The Skatalites,
Organ,
Chris Corsano,
Altered Images,
Massinfluence,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.