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 East Timor and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Drive Like Jehu to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Black Sheep,
Lindisfarne,
Joe Smooth,
Dave Gahan,
Subhumans,
New York Dolls,
Erykah Badu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Raincoats,
The Cure,
Moby Grape,
Das Ding,
Terry Callier,
The Durutti Column,
Aswad,
Brothers Johnson,
Tears for Fears,
The Five Americans,
The Electric Prunes,
Albert Ayler,
The Residents,
Magma,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Pretty Things,
Crime,
The Litter,
JFA,
The Doors,
Minny Pops,
Rakim,
Bronski Beat,
Ornette Coleman,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sparks,
Janne Schatter,
the Bar-Kays,
Index,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Star Department,
Vladislav Delay,
The Wake,
Marshall Jefferson,
Steve Hackett,
The Gun Club,
Thee Headcoats,
Maurizio,
Bizarre Inc.,
Fugazi,
Lakeside,
cv313,
Mary Jane Girls,
Scion,
Grey Daturas,
Panda Bear,
The Black Dice,
The Remains,
Bad Manners,
Desert Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.