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 Israel and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Holger Czukay 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the techno 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kayak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
48th St. Collective,
Bill Wells,
Magma,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The United States of America,
Brick,
Livin' Joy,
Glenn Branca,
The Music Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mr. Review,
Mantronix,
The Blackbyrds,
AZ,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Happenings,
Hashim,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Vogues,
Jesper Dahlback,
X-102,
Sixth Finger,
The Five Americans,
Kaleidoscope,
Marvin Gaye,
Guru Guru,
John Lydon,
Sound Behaviour,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kool Moe Dee,
Blancmange,
Fugazi,
Loose Ends,
Soft Cell,
Al Stewart,
X-101,
ABC,
Public Image Ltd.,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Andrew Hill,
The Toasters,
New Age Steppers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Moss Icon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Brass Construction,
Newcleus,
The Durutti Column,
Cybotron,
Electric Light Orchestra,
David Axelrod,
FM Einheit,
Jerry's Kids,
Hasil Adkins,
Joe Smooth,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.