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 Burkina and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 Spokane and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
Robert Görl,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Circle Jerks,
The Selecter,
Agent Orange,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Darondo,
The Wake,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bob Dylan,
Niagra,
AZ,
Tomorrow,
Pere Ubu,
Henry Cow,
Cybotron,
Terry Callier,
Livin' Joy,
Cecil Taylor,
The Victims,
Underground Resistance,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Divine Comedy,
Rotary Connection,
Juan Atkins,
David McCallum,
Sight & Sound,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Inner City,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Skaos,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Talk Talk,
Brass Construction,
Lee Hazlewood,
Japan,
Brothers Johnson,
B.T. Express,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Red Krayola,
Sixth Finger,
Babytalk,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Evens,
Wings,
Los Fastidios,
Steve Hackett,
Piero Umiliani,
Ronnie Foster,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fat Boys,
Josef K,
The Last Poets,
Little Man,
The Buckinghams,
Camouflage,
Quantec,
Animal Collective,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.