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 Equatorial Guinea and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Magazine to the punk 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Circle Jerks,
Animal Collective,
Supertramp,
The Mojo Men,
Crispian St. Peters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
London Community Gospel Choir,
E-Dancer,
Livin' Joy,
The Dead C,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Deadbeat,
Wolf Eyes,
Underground Resistance,
Terrestrial Tones,
Model 500,
Anthony Braxton,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dark Day,
Q and Not U,
Sight & Sound,
The Mummies,
Mars,
Eve St. Jones,
Scientists,
Don Cherry,
Lightning Bolt,
Mission of Burma,
The Beau Brummels,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Janne Schatter,
Eddi Front,
R.M.O.,
Avey Tare,
ABBA,
Adolescents,
Babytalk,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Los Fastidios,
Alison Limerick,
Sarah Menescal,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Minor Threat,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roger Hodgson,
EPMD,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Negative Approach,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aloha Tigers,
Jawbox,
Groovy Waters,
Kas Product,
Swell Maps,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Move,
Kaleidoscope,
Warren Ellis,
Mandrill,
MDC,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.