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 Iraq and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 F. McDonald to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dennis Brown record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
the Fania All-Stars,
Aloha Tigers,
Mo-Dettes,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Kinks,
Simply Red,
Prince Buster,
the Normal,
Avey Tare,
Accadde A,
The Invisible,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Delon & Dalcan,
10cc,
Bill Wells,
Black Pus,
Robert Görl,
Chris Corsano,
Malaria!,
Saccharine Trust,
Marmalade,
Dead Boys,
Cymande,
Adolescents,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Crime,
Mr. Review,
Section 25,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Spandau Ballet,
Thee Headcoats,
The Moleskins,
Jeff Lynne,
Sound Behaviour,
Rufus Thomas,
This Heat,
Ossler,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scion,
Michelle Simonal,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eli Mardock,
Minutemen,
Tears for Fears,
B.T. Express,
The Black Dice,
Animal Collective,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Unwound,
Jacob Miller,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Fuzztones,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.