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 Seychelles and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Portland.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ultimate Spinach to the electroclash 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Underground Resistance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Five Americans,
Nick Fraelich,
The Beau Brummels,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Funky Four + One,
The Kinks,
Black Sheep,
Max Romeo,
Youth Brigade,
Ken Boothe,
Stetsasonic,
Surgeon,
Donny Hathaway,
Supertramp,
Zapp,
Byron Stingily,
Royal Trux,
MDC,
China Crisis,
Albert Ayler,
Colin Newman,
John Holt,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ronan,
Nik Kershaw,
The Stooges,
Zero Boys,
Gang Starr,
Excepter,
Mission of Burma,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quadrant,
Deadbeat,
Leonard Cohen,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Radiohead,
Flipper,
Half Japanese,
Bob Dylan,
Sex Pistols,
Joe Finger,
Television Personalities,
Hashim,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bad Manners,
The Shadows of Knight,
Iggy Pop,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boz Scaggs,
Neil Young,
Whodini,
Infiniti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Victims,
The Fire Engines,
David McCallum,
The Grass Roots,
Black Moon,
Crooked Eye,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.