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 Georgia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Nick Fraelich to the grunge 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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Sherman,
Animal Collective,
Stiv Bators,
Icehouse,
Lindisfarne,
Darondo,
Alphaville,
Massinfluence,
Jacques Brel,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pulsallama,
Girls At Our Best!,
Soul Sonic Force,
Soul II Soul,
Lalann,
the Germs,
Infiniti,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Litter,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pantytec,
Moebius,
Cluster,
Deadbeat,
Vladislav Delay,
The Remains,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Fortunes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Brand Nubian,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Siglo XX,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Unwound,
Donald Byrd,
DNA,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Camberwell Now,
Matthew Bourne,
Buzzcocks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Con Funk Shun,
DJ Style,
the Slits,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marmalade,
Flipper,
The Standells,
Trumans Water,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Flash Fearless,
Hot Snakes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Throbbing Gristle,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.