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 Malaysia and from Stockholm.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Moss Icon to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
June of 44,
Bluetip,
Kenny Larkin,
Terry Callier,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Agent Orange,
Gichy Dan,
Eden Ahbez,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Donald Byrd,
Gabor Szabo,
Peter & Gordon,
The Gap Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
Dual Sessions,
Aloha Tigers,
Circle Jerks,
Marc Almond,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Cowsills,
Altered Images,
Parry Music,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Nirvana,
The Durutti Column,
Lee Hazlewood,
T. Rex,
The Last Poets,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kaleidoscope,
Magazine,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Can,
Max Romeo,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Smiths,
Al Stewart,
The Real Kids,
Fat Boys,
L. Decosne,
Mars,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
In Retrospect,
Matthew Bourne,
Television,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pussy Galore,
Wasted Youth,
Radio Birdman,
Slick Rick,
The Tremeloes,
X-Ray Spex,
Clear Light,
Ice-T,
Henry Cow,
Underground Resistance,
Letta Mbulu,
Stiv Bators,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.