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 Uzbekistan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bologna.
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 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 Bobby Byrd to the grunge 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 Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Terry Callier,
Camberwell Now,
Joy Division,
Quantec,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Neon Judgement,
Glenn Branca,
Cal Tjader,
Surgeon,
Pylon,
Ten City,
Malaria!,
Black Bananas,
Scan 7,
X-102,
Blake Baxter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bluetip,
Mandrill,
Kurtis Blow,
Ice-T,
The Walker Brothers,
Ludus,
Matthew Halsall,
John Holt,
Barrington Levy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mark Hollis,
Derrick May,
the Slits,
Q and Not U,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marvin Gaye,
Jerry's Kids,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Vogues,
Ossler,
Amon Düül II,
Danielle Patucci,
Radiohead,
Joyce Sims,
Stiv Bators,
The Birthday Party,
The Human League,
Camouflage,
Sixth Finger,
Pierre Henry,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Red Krayola,
Subhumans,
Yazoo,
DJ Style,
The Move,
K-Klass,
Skaos,
The Toasters,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott Heron,
Moss Icon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.