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 Madagascar and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Icehouse. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alton Ellis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Magma,
Pere Ubu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Terry Callier,
The Barracudas,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Electric Prunes,
Harry Pussy,
L. Decosne,
The Monks,
Mars,
The Gories,
Mantronix,
Metal Thangz,
KRS-One,
Rufus Thomas,
Drive Like Jehu,
Spoonie Gee,
Hashim,
Gang Green,
Malaria!,
The American Breed,
Liliput,
Bluetip,
cv313,
Mary Jane Girls,
Public Image Ltd.,
Interpol,
Symarip,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eric Copeland,
The Mummies,
Yellowson,
Wire,
The Motions,
Pierre Henry,
Hoover,
Harmonia,
Brand Nubian,
Newcleus,
Fugazi,
Man Parrish,
Angry Samoans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Anthony Braxton,
Country Teasers,
Whodini,
Barry Ungar,
Monolake,
The Index,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Blancmange,
AZ,
Pantytec,
Roy Ayers,
The Last Poets,
Stockholm Monsters,
Zero Boys,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.