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 Jordan and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a FM Einheit record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
The Mummies,
Dawn Penn,
Gang of Four,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ultra Naté,
the Soft Cell,
Pere Ubu,
The Last Poets,
The Pretty Things,
Dark Day,
Isaac Hayes,
Funky Four + One,
Byron Stingily,
The Residents,
Desert Stars,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Can,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ludus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kenny Larkin,
Arcadia,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joey Negro,
The Slackers,
Amon Düül,
The Mojo Men,
Blake Baxter,
Oblivians,
Aaron Thompson,
Eric Copeland,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Martian,
Max Romeo,
Robert Hood,
Mandrill,
Animal Collective,
Heaven 17,
Cameo,
Maleditus Sound,
Fad Gadget,
Sandy B,
Harpers Bizarre,
Idris Muhammad,
Brass Construction,
ABBA,
The Dirtbombs,
Man Parrish,
D'Angelo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Johnny Clarke,
Marc Almond,
Visage,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jawbox,
Prince Buster,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Moody Blues,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gong,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.