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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 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 Ice-T to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Urselle. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Half Japanese,
A Certain Ratio,
Y Pants,
Davy DMX,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Slackers,
Scrapy,
Gabor Szabo,
Shoche,
Inner City,
The Busters,
Technova,
The Electric Prunes,
The Birthday Party,
Joe Smooth,
World's Most,
Aswad,
The Beau Brummels,
Youth Brigade,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Tom Boy,
Fluxion,
Eden Ahbez,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Average White Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Soulsonic Force,
Pere Ubu,
The Gun Club,
Tropical Tobacco,
Camberwell Now,
Bronski Beat,
Los Fastidios,
Urselle,
The Divine Comedy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ken Boothe,
Nils Olav,
Boz Scaggs,
Drexciya,
The Vogues,
Quantec,
Scott Walker,
Sparks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wings,
Peter and Kerry,
Thee Headcoats,
Janne Schatter,
Vladislav Delay,
Cymande,
Outsiders,
Crooked Eye,
Accadde A,
Gang Starr,
Howard Jones,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ohio Players,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Masters at Work,
Letta Mbulu,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.