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 East Timor and from London.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 chamberlin 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the punk 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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sex Pistols,
This Heat,
Byron Stingily,
L. Decosne,
The Techniques,
Andrew Hill,
The Cure,
T. Rex,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The United States of America,
Pantaleimon,
Rosa Yemen,
The Buckinghams,
The Count Five,
Gang Green,
The Dirtbombs,
Rod Modell,
Amazonics,
FM Einheit,
Lalann,
Franke,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Normal,
Peter & Gordon,
Panda Bear,
John Cale,
Ossler,
The Seeds,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barry Ungar,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Model 500,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Man Parrish,
Chrome,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fall,
Lungfish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Slits,
Sonny Sharrock,
UT,
Ponytail,
Heaven 17,
Tim Buckley,
Intrusion,
Hoover,
The Neon Judgement,
Black Sheep,
Funkadelic,
Banda Bassotti,
Grauzone,
Tropical Tobacco,
Al Stewart,
Joe Finger,
Essential Logic,
The Martian,
Minny Pops,
Aural Exciters,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.