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 Gabon and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
The Slits,
Ken Boothe,
kango's stein massive,
Fad Gadget,
Godley & Creme,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Khruangbin,
The Count Five,
Can,
Ponytail,
Simply Red,
This Heat,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Wyatt,
Inner City,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bad Manners,
Lucky Dragons,
June of 44,
FM Einheit,
Wally Richardson,
Altered Images,
Hasil Adkins,
The Remains,
X-Ray Spex,
Warren Ellis,
Flipper,
Tears for Fears,
Lower 48,
The Electric Prunes,
Desert Stars,
The Skatalites,
Lakeside,
the Slits,
The Walker Brothers,
The Black Dice,
Ten City,
Groovy Waters,
Gabor Szabo,
Albert Ayler,
Icehouse,
Radiohead,
Y Pants,
Byron Stingily,
Spandau Ballet,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Motions,
The Leaves,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fela Kuti,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jawbox,
Crime,
Smog,
Moebius,
Carl Craig,
The Modern Lovers,
Deepchord,
Archie Shepp,
Magma,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.