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 Ecuador and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Eric Dolphy 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Aloha Tigers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cymande,
DNA,
Cybotron,
Harmonia,
Barry Ungar,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kenny Larkin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Metal Thangz,
Arcadia,
Theoretical Girls,
Toni Rubio,
Ultravox,
Mr. Review,
Quadrant,
Steve Hackett,
Angry Samoans,
Barclay James Harvest,
Davy DMX,
Clear Light,
The Kinks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stetsasonic,
The Moleskins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bill Near,
LL Cool J,
The Doors,
Wolf Eyes,
Colin Newman,
The Evens,
MC5,
Rotary Connection,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Grass Roots,
Yazoo,
Blake Baxter,
Avey Tare,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bauhaus,
Lightning Bolt,
The Monochrome Set,
the Normal,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Happenings,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Brick,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Mandrill,
Marcia Griffiths,
Franke,
Moss Icon,
Popol Vuh,
John Lydon,
Dawn Penn,
Niagra,
FM Einheit, FM Einheit, FM Einheit, FM Einheit.
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.