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 Panama and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Funky Four + One,
Arab on Radar,
Fugazi,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Moby Grape,
Bob Dylan,
Quadrant,
Flash Fearless,
The Moleskins,
John Cale,
Easy Going,
Kenny Larkin,
Niagra,
Icehouse,
China Crisis,
Bill Wells,
Mr. Review,
Yellowson,
Y Pants,
Funkadelic,
Neu!,
Judy Mowatt,
Spoonie Gee,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Con Funk Shun,
Cymande,
Janne Schatter,
Peter & Gordon,
ABC,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Steve Hackett,
Joey Negro,
The Red Krayola,
The Barracudas,
Lungfish,
Connie Case,
Cameo,
David Axelrod,
F. McDonald,
Model 500,
The Sound,
In Retrospect,
Andrew Hill,
The Dave Clark Five,
Young Marble Giants,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Walker Brothers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lower 48,
Rhythm & Sound,
Joe Smooth,
Girls At Our Best!,
Schoolly D,
Outsiders,
Susan Cadogan,
The Pretty Things,
the Association,
Ronan,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Index,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.