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 Spain and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 Jakarta and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Fuzztones to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
The Wake,
Funky Four + One,
The Raincoats,
Amon Düül II,
Liliput,
X-101,
Boredoms,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Moody Blues,
Todd Terry,
Interpol,
The Knickerbockers,
The Techniques,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lou Reed,
Echospace,
Subhumans,
Metal Thangz,
Harry Pussy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Flipper,
CMW,
John Foxx,
Danielle Patucci,
Thompson Twins,
Japan,
Bush Tetras,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Fuzztones,
Anthony Braxton,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Alice Coltrane,
Gang Green,
Monks,
The Cramps,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Golliwogs,
The Standells,
Radiopuhelimet,
Oblivians,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bill Wells,
Los Fastidios,
Average White Band,
Khruangbin,
ABBA,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Red Krayola,
Kas Product,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Alarm Clocks,
Juan Atkins,
Roxette,
Bobby Byrd,
Scion,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
JFA,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jeff Mills,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Five Americans,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.