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 Kazakhstan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin 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 Urselle to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Kool Moe Dee,
The J.B.'s,
One Last Wish,
The Saints,
The Blackbyrds,
Anakelly,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Blues Magoos,
Accadde A,
Charles Mingus,
Symarip,
Whodini,
June of 44,
Newcleus,
E-Dancer,
The Mojo Men,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
ABBA,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Blake Baxter,
The Durutti Column,
The Red Krayola,
Porter Ricks,
Trumans Water,
Carl Craig,
The Offenders,
The Gladiators,
Michelle Simonal,
Radio Birdman,
Los Fastidios,
Sex Pistols,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lightning Bolt,
The Residents,
The Last Poets,
Von Mondo,
Mission of Burma,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dual Sessions,
U.S. Maple,
Clear Light,
The Gun Club,
Angry Samoans,
DJ Sneak,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Amon Düül,
Gong,
Nils Olav,
Ludus,
Wolf Eyes,
Dave Gahan,
Yellowson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ultravox,
Warren Ellis,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.