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 Philippines and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Lalo Schifrin to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
ABC,
Ponytail,
Mission of Burma,
the Slits,
The Slits,
Aural Exciters,
Scott Walker,
Fluxion,
Make Up,
Pussy Galore,
Roy Ayers,
Dead Boys,
Hot Snakes,
Metal Thangz,
Blossom Toes,
Anakelly,
Qualms,
Man Eating Sloth,
Livin' Joy,
Al Stewart,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Letta Mbulu,
Fat Boys,
Soft Cell,
Nils Olav,
Todd Terry,
Television Personalities,
Unrelated Segments,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Radiohead,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arab on Radar,
Sandy B,
Intrusion,
Max Romeo,
The Smiths,
The Fugs,
Roger Hodgson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Kas Product,
Smog,
Essential Logic,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Scientists,
Deadbeat,
Sarah Menescal,
X-102,
Althea and Donna,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Raincoats,
Clear Light,
the Sonics,
The Mummies,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fela Kuti,
John Foxx,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.