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 Cameroon and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Doobie Brothers to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Harry Pussy,
The Saints,
Quadrant,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Radio Birdman,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bang On A Can,
Steve Hackett,
Derrick Morgan,
Matthew Halsall,
Fluxion,
Model 500,
Thee Headcoats,
Johnny Clarke,
Main Source,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
June Days,
Althea and Donna,
The New Christs,
Minutemen,
Jacob Miller,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
the Sonics,
Tom Boy,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cramps,
Delta 5,
Pulsallama,
Electric Prunes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
Trumans Water,
Icehouse,
Faust,
Mission of Burma,
Little Man,
The Names,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Five Americans,
Gastr Del Sol,
E-Dancer,
Maurizio,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Yusef Lateef,
Josef K,
KRS-One,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Drive Like Jehu,
X-102,
Bush Tetras,
Popol Vuh,
Sonny Sharrock,
Nils Olav,
Monolake,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Michelle Simonal,
JFA,
Jacques Brel,
Public Enemy,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.