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 South Africa and from Bremen.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
John Holt,
The Detroit Cobras,
Television,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Intrusion,
The New Christs,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Slackers,
The Gun Club,
Procol Harum,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Drexciya,
Whodini,
Warsaw,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Man Eating Sloth,
Outsiders,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Martian,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mad Mike,
Hot Snakes,
The Fugs,
Wasted Youth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kas Product,
Andrew Hill,
Bush Tetras,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Piero Umiliani,
Von Mondo,
Pulsallama,
Tom Boy,
Erykah Badu,
The Vogues,
Magma,
Roger Hodgson,
Au Pairs,
The Cowsills,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kerrie Biddell,
Newcleus,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bluetip,
The Gladiators,
Terry Callier,
Young Marble Giants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Leonard Cohen,
T.S.O.L.,
Funkadelic,
B.T. Express,
Goldenarms,
Skaos,
The Fire Engines,
Desert Stars,
The Mummies,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.