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 Chile and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Cairo.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Sam Rivers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Last Poets,
Sandy B,
Minutemen,
Suburban Knight,
The Moleskins,
Whodini,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Reuben Wilson,
Gong,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Motorama,
The Skatalites,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ornette Coleman,
R.M.O.,
Black Pus,
Marmalade,
Funkadelic,
Minnie Riperton,
Ponytail,
Grey Daturas,
Black Bananas,
Michelle Simonal,
Aaron Thompson,
Boz Scaggs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Normal,
John Cale,
Pantaleimon,
Ice-T,
The Associates,
The Barracudas,
Skaos,
These Immortal Souls,
Ultra Naté,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mantronix,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lightning Bolt,
Ralphi Rosario,
Juan Atkins,
Jandek,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Spoonie Gee,
The Mojo Men,
the Human League,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fatback Band,
The Martian,
Susan Cadogan,
X-Ray Spex,
Fluxion,
Bob Dylan,
Mars,
Mad Mike,
Barbara Tucker,
Blancmange,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.