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 Mozambique and from New York.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cosmic Jokers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Kurtis Blow,
Hoover,
Surgeon,
Magma,
Severed Heads,
Peter & Gordon,
the Association,
The Associates,
Grey Daturas,
Swans,
Darondo,
Schoolly D,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lungfish,
The J.B.'s,
The Move,
The Black Dice,
Jeff Lynne,
Bill Wells,
Circle Jerks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Zero Boys,
The Gladiators,
a-ha,
Prince Buster,
Faraquet,
Chrome,
Kas Product,
Shoche,
Ossler,
Dave Gahan,
Byron Stingily,
Thompson Twins,
The Victims,
Al Stewart,
Goldenarms,
Qualms,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bush Tetras,
Television Personalities,
Model 500,
Deepchord,
The Raincoats,
F. McDonald,
8 Eyed Spy,
Todd Rundgren,
Arab on Radar,
Derrick Morgan,
Freddie Wadling,
Deakin,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Excepter,
Lucky Dragons,
the Swans,
T. Rex,
David Axelrod,
Brass Construction,
The Slackers,
Spoonie Gee,
Smog,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.