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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Detroit Cobras to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
David Axelrod,
Matthew Halsall,
Magma,
Crispian St. Peters,
Chrome,
Dennis Brown,
the Normal,
Mr. Review,
the Slits,
The Doors,
Piero Umiliani,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
DJ Style,
Pere Ubu,
Grandmaster Flash,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Saints,
Arthur Verocai,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Moody Blues,
Gang Starr,
JFA,
Wings,
Scratch Acid,
Scientists,
John Cale,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Techniques,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soulsonic Force,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Smog,
Flipper,
Duran Duran,
The Happenings,
Jawbox,
Aural Exciters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
FM Einheit,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Minny Pops,
Adolescents,
Scott Walker,
Danielle Patucci,
The Black Dice,
Rufus Thomas,
This Heat,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Vainqueur,
The Zeros,
Patti Smith,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Young Rascals,
Sun City Girls,
Cluster,
Mantronix,
Television Personalities,
Pantytec,
The Fire Engines,
Soft Cell,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.