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 Czech Republic and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Eli Mardock to the rap 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
Bill Wells,
The Sonics,
Ituana,
Donald Byrd,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rufus Thomas,
Pharoah Sanders,
Toni Rubio,
F. McDonald,
the Fania All-Stars,
June of 44,
Unrelated Segments,
Severed Heads,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Barracudas,
Bush Tetras,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sound Behaviour,
Minnie Riperton,
The Toasters,
Theoretical Girls,
The Durutti Column,
Albert Ayler,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yazoo,
Das Ding,
Unwound,
Juan Atkins,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
These Immortal Souls,
Mission of Burma,
John Lydon,
Los Fastidios,
KRS-One,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
DJ Style,
Derrick May,
Alton Ellis,
The Happenings,
CMW,
Lou Christie,
Gastr Del Sol,
Negative Approach,
The Smoke,
Guru Guru,
Rotary Connection,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hashim,
Sarah Menescal,
Barry Ungar,
Subhumans,
Ponytail,
Jeff Lynne,
The Cramps,
Supertramp,
Joyce Sims,
Deepchord,
Vladislav Delay,
Scrapy,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.