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 Afghanistan and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 güiro 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 Yellowson to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb 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 oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Bauhaus,
Johnny Clarke,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soft Cell,
Sparks,
Heaven 17,
Ludus,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Quantec,
Stetsasonic,
Marmalade,
Funkadelic,
Intrusion,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Radiohead,
Q and Not U,
Malaria!,
Dawn Penn,
the Germs,
Inner City,
Rotary Connection,
Robert Görl,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pere Ubu,
B.T. Express,
Bush Tetras,
Essential Logic,
Agent Orange,
Duran Duran,
Depeche Mode,
Alice Coltrane,
Procol Harum,
Quadrant,
Harry Pussy,
Aural Exciters,
John Cale,
Kenny Larkin,
The Golliwogs,
Barbara Tucker,
David Axelrod,
Kas Product,
Blake Baxter,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Chris & Cosey,
MDC,
Sister Nancy,
Avey Tare,
Ken Boothe,
Alphaville,
Quando Quango,
Silicon Teens,
Rites of Spring,
Bill Wells,
Au Pairs,
Jandek,
Grandmaster Flash,
Los Fastidios,
The Kinks,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.