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 Iceland and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the organ 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 The Star Department to the punk 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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Don Cherry,
X-101,
Chrome,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Birthday Party,
Bang On A Can,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Negative Approach,
Hoover,
The Blackbyrds,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bobby Byrd,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Television Personalities,
Davy DMX,
Robert Wyatt,
The New Christs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Barracudas,
The Pop Group,
Adolescents,
Hot Snakes,
Lightning Bolt,
Junior Murvin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Magma,
The Real Kids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Smoke,
Idris Muhammad,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Selecter,
Jacques Brel,
Godley & Creme,
Donny Hathaway,
Yazoo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Supertramp,
Gang of Four,
Masters at Work,
Girls At Our Best!,
Roy Ayers,
Cal Tjader,
Avey Tare,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kas Product,
Gil Scott Heron,
Oblivians,
Sound Behaviour,
The Zeros,
Fatback Band,
Sight & Sound,
48th St. Collective,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gang Starr,
Pylon,
The Smiths,
Sexual Harrassment,
ABBA,
Crime,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.