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 Azerbaijan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Desert Stars to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Mr. Review,
Ornette Coleman,
Lebanon Hanover,
Godley & Creme,
Jeff Mills,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cybotron,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stetsasonic,
The Monochrome Set,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Aural Exciters,
Danielle Patucci,
The Vogues,
Oblivians,
Hoover,
Cheater Slicks,
New Age Steppers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sound Behaviour,
The Barracudas,
Sarah Menescal,
Wally Richardson,
China Crisis,
Basic Channel,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Mojo Men,
Camberwell Now,
Alphaville,
The United States of America,
The Golliwogs,
Roy Ayers,
FM Einheit,
Technova,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gabor Szabo,
Panda Bear,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Sheep,
Rekid,
The Index,
Subhumans,
The Buckinghams,
John Holt,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cure,
The Remains,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Public Enemy,
Gang Green,
Maleditus Sound,
Althea and Donna,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Bar-Kays,
Roxy Music,
Faraquet,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vladislav Delay,
Wire,
EPMD,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.