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 East Timor and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Kerrie Biddell to the crunk 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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Ituana,
Kurtis Blow,
The Saints,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Searchers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Evens,
Circle Jerks,
Altered Images,
Massinfluence,
Gang of Four,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gabor Szabo,
Main Source,
Hoover,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Outsiders,
The Vogues,
Malaria!,
Grauzone,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Slick Rick,
The Electric Prunes,
Janne Schatter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Guru Guru,
Section 25,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Lydon,
Moebius,
Joe Smooth,
The Monks,
Derrick May,
Nik Kershaw,
The Move,
The Busters,
Sugar Minott,
Alice Coltrane,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pantaleimon,
Matthew Bourne,
Youth Brigade,
Au Pairs,
Unrelated Segments,
Funky Four + One,
Robert Hood,
Loose Ends,
Lindisfarne,
Pere Ubu,
Sight & Sound,
the Association,
Jeff Lynne,
Peter & Gordon,
Scratch Acid,
Eric Dolphy,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.