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 Maldives and from Philadelphia.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the snare 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 Sound Behaviour to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
John Holt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Donny Hathaway,
Blancmange,
Dark Day,
Vladislav Delay,
The Smiths,
Sam Rivers,
Bob Dylan,
Electric Prunes,
Neil Young,
Delon & Dalcan,
Hardrive,
The Mummies,
The Velvet Underground,
Wolf Eyes,
Nik Kershaw,
Deakin,
Robert Wyatt,
Groovy Waters,
Urselle,
Aswad,
The Offenders,
The Doors,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
48th St. Collective,
Sun Ra,
The Selecter,
Motorama,
The Birthday Party,
Eden Ahbez,
Toni Rubio,
Dawn Penn,
E-Dancer,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Funky Four + One,
Warren Ellis,
Godley & Creme,
Q65,
Cecil Taylor,
Underground Resistance,
Cheater Slicks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Hasil Adkins,
Crash Course in Science,
Spoonie Gee,
D'Angelo,
Lungfish,
Erykah Badu,
Circle Jerks,
The Moody Blues,
the Sonics,
T.S.O.L.,
Barbara Tucker,
The Litter,
Oblivians,
MDC,
Buzzcocks,
Lalann,
Cluster,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.