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 Congo and from Cairo.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Nils Olav to the grunge 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
Blake Baxter,
Liliput,
Animal Collective,
The Mojo Men,
Roger Hodgson,
Agent Orange,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Archie Shepp,
Barrington Levy,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Skatalites,
The Pop Group,
Max Romeo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
MDC,
Essential Logic,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Charles Mingus,
Carl Craig,
Infiniti,
Byron Stingily,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Todd Rundgren,
Buzzcocks,
Mantronix,
Nils Olav,
the Human League,
Patti Smith,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fugazi,
The Saints,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Pretty Things,
Lalo Schifrin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bronski Beat,
Albert Ayler,
Jeff Mills,
Shoche,
Peter & Gordon,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Grass Roots,
Intrusion,
Wolf Eyes,
Vladislav Delay,
Quadrant,
Half Japanese,
ABBA,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Stiv Bators,
Amon Düül II,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Chris & Cosey,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Blancmange,
Livin' Joy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Interpol,
Wasted Youth,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.