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 Antigua and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sight & Sound to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Seeds. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Con Funk Shun,
Patti Smith,
Metal Thangz,
Ornette Coleman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Litter,
Moby Grape,
Bush Tetras,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sonic Youth,
the Human League,
Marcia Griffiths,
Brand Nubian,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Birthday Party,
John Lydon,
Oneida,
Minnie Riperton,
The Smoke,
Radio Birdman,
Joe Smooth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Laurel Aitken,
One Last Wish,
Pagans,
The Beau Brummels,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Animal Collective,
Joe Finger,
Cameo,
The Fuzztones,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Minny Pops,
Pantaleimon,
The Tremeloes,
Eve St. Jones,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Stooges,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dark Day,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Subhumans,
Khruangbin,
John Cale,
Von Mondo,
The Trojans,
Cluster,
Liliput,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Skriet,
Derrick Morgan,
The Cowsills,
Heaven 17,
Peter & Gordon,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.