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 Indonesia 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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Royal Trux to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and a sitar 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 linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
David McCallum,
Chris & Cosey,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Freddie Wadling,
Delta 5,
Colin Newman,
Joyce Sims,
Henry Cow,
Popol Vuh,
Graham Central Station,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Amazonics,
The Cowsills,
Tomorrow,
Lakeside,
The Star Department,
Arcadia,
Connie Case,
Porter Ricks,
The Beau Brummels,
Pussy Galore,
Cecil Taylor,
Charles Mingus,
One Last Wish,
The Mighty Diamonds,
John Coltrane,
Kaleidoscope,
Matthew Bourne,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Soft Cell,
The Vogues,
Wolf Eyes,
The New Christs,
La Düsseldorf,
Black Bananas,
Khruangbin,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mars,
Pharoah Sanders,
X-102,
Magazine,
Glenn Branca,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sound Behaviour,
Warsaw,
Yellowson,
Eric Dolphy,
Minny Pops,
James White and The Blacks,
Eddi Front,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Barry Ungar,
Ituana,
Circle Jerks,
The Count Five,
Ten City,
The Sound,
Reagan Youth,
Fugazi,
Soul II Soul,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.