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 Turkey and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 marimba 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 Tim Buckley to the jazz 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
Al Stewart,
Yusef Lateef,
June Days,
Delta 5,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Piero Umiliani,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Hoover,
Danielle Patucci,
The Invisible,
The Blackbyrds,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Vogues,
Bush Tetras,
Lakeside,
Crash Course in Science,
Letta Mbulu,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Evens,
Rites of Spring,
New York Dolls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Anthony Braxton,
Girls At Our Best!,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Germs,
Nico,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soft Machine,
Mad Mike,
Camouflage,
Sonic Youth,
Chris Corsano,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moleskins,
Crooked Eye,
The Fuzztones,
Jacques Brel,
Leonard Cohen,
Scion,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Los Fastidios,
B.T. Express,
Quantec,
Yazoo,
Kas Product,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gories,
The Dirtbombs,
Smog,
DNA,
Bronski Beat,
Hardrive,
Eric B and Rakim,
Von Mondo,
Bad Manners,
Pagans,
Minny Pops,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.