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 Jordan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Nirvana to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Ten City,
Sandy B,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Lyres,
Kayak,
Yellowson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eric Copeland,
Judy Mowatt,
Echospace,
Jeru the Damaja,
Todd Terry,
Danielle Patucci,
Agent Orange,
Minny Pops,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rapeman,
Bobby Sherman,
The Knickerbockers,
Suicide,
Brass Construction,
Popol Vuh,
The Mojo Men,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Litter,
Todd Rundgren,
The Doors,
Man Eating Sloth,
Alice Coltrane,
Toni Rubio,
the Sonics,
Minutemen,
Deepchord,
Michelle Simonal,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Depeche Mode,
Bob Dylan,
Gichy Dan,
Kenny Larkin,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Wire,
Amazonics,
Graham Central Station,
Flash Fearless,
Jacques Brel,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Arab on Radar,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Juan Atkins,
Unwound,
Ponytail,
Tropical Tobacco,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roger Hodgson,
Moby Grape,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.