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 Senegal and from Stockholm.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fela Kuti to the crunk 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 Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
Slick Rick,
The Mummies,
Faust,
a-ha,
Minor Threat,
Michelle Simonal,
K-Klass,
kango's stein massive,
The Buckinghams,
Pharoah Sanders,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Joe Finger,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Fuzztones,
The Misunderstood,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Roger Hodgson,
Sällskapet,
Man Eating Sloth,
U.S. Maple,
Ultravox,
The Tremeloes,
Eddi Front,
the Normal,
Nas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kaleidoscope,
Rakim,
Bush Tetras,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kurtis Blow,
Arab on Radar,
Harpers Bizarre,
Motorama,
Danielle Patucci,
Newcleus,
Soft Cell,
The Saints,
Babytalk,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quando Quango,
The Vogues,
The Flesh Eaters,
Young Marble Giants,
Charles Mingus,
Banda Bassotti,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Roxy Music,
Pulsallama,
Pantytec,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Derrick May,
Peter and Kerry,
Alison Limerick,
Crash Course in Science,
the Slits,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.