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 Vietnam and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Silicon Teens to the crunk 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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
DJ Style,
Letta Mbulu,
The Cramps,
Desert Stars,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gang Starr,
Icehouse,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Black Dice,
John Cale,
Mark Hollis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Archie Shepp,
June of 44,
Glenn Branca,
Isaac Hayes,
Harmonia,
Mary Jane Girls,
Unwound,
The Vogues,
the Bar-Kays,
Iggy Pop,
Altered Images,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Derrick Morgan,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Neon Judgement,
Carl Craig,
The Five Americans,
Man Parrish,
10cc,
H. Thieme,
Sällskapet,
Alice Coltrane,
Morten Harket,
The Standells,
Brand Nubian,
Joey Negro,
Donny Hathaway,
Jawbox,
Radiopuhelimet,
Marc Almond,
The Leaves,
UT,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Television,
Sonic Youth,
Magma,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fela Kuti,
Infiniti,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gregory Isaacs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Crime,
Tommy Roe,
Radiohead,
Dennis Brown,
Brick,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.