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 Serbia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Underground Resistance to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
Thompson Twins,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultra Naté,
EPMD,
Prince Buster,
The Leaves,
Minnie Riperton,
Icehouse,
Masters at Work,
Bill Wells,
Brass Construction,
Magma,
Livin' Joy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Crooked Eye,
Quando Quango,
The Last Poets,
T.S.O.L.,
Oneida,
Von Mondo,
Panda Bear,
The Real Kids,
Tres Demented,
Los Fastidios,
Blancmange,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
48th St. Collective,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Bananas,
Danielle Patucci,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lebanon Hanover,
Carl Craig,
Flash Fearless,
Scientists,
The Smoke,
Deepchord,
Skarface,
Minutemen,
The Litter,
Joe Smooth,
Darondo,
Charles Mingus,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lindisfarne,
Mo-Dettes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Red Krayola,
Pussy Galore,
Essential Logic,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camouflage,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lucky Dragons,
the Soft Cell,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.