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 Thailand and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Carl Craig to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Judy Mowatt,
Groovy Waters,
Pylon,
Robert Hood,
Angry Samoans,
Cymande,
a-ha,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Leaves,
Nico,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Qualms,
Erasure,
Joensuu 1685,
L. Decosne,
Crispy Ambulance,
Public Enemy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sam Rivers,
The Fuzztones,
Boz Scaggs,
Essential Logic,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Whodini,
Sexual Harrassment,
David Bowie,
Aaron Thompson,
Brand Nubian,
the Slits,
Visage,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eli Mardock,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Johnny Clarke,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scan 7,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Sound,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Parry Music,
Japan,
Alton Ellis,
Mars,
Simply Red,
The Beau Brummels,
8 Eyed Spy,
Q65,
Pulsallama,
F. McDonald,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
X-102,
Accadde A,
Avey Tare,
Animal Collective,
Moebius,
Gang Green,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Organ,
Ituana,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.