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 Japan and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
Ossler,
Infiniti,
Heaven 17,
Spandau Ballet,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Fuzztones,
Arab on Radar,
Vladislav Delay,
The Seeds,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tom Boy,
KRS-One,
Nico,
Malaria!,
Scott Walker,
Ken Boothe,
Agent Orange,
Blossom Toes,
The Gories,
The Index,
One Last Wish,
Tim Buckley,
Grauzone,
Buzzcocks,
Sun Ra,
The Walker Brothers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jeff Lynne,
Big Daddy Kane,
Unrelated Segments,
X-Ray Spex,
The Knickerbockers,
Fugazi,
Desert Stars,
Connie Case,
Organ,
Metal Thangz,
Agitation Free,
Absolute Body Control,
Warsaw,
Lakeside,
Crash Course in Science,
Thee Headcoats,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Loose Ends,
Jacob Miller,
Moebius,
The Durutti Column,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Shoche,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Wolf Eyes,
B.T. Express,
John Holt,
John Cale,
Rhythm & Sound,
Stiv Bators,
Eric Dolphy,
Half Japanese,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.