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 Namibia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
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 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 Infiniti 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
The Misunderstood,
Don Cherry,
Neu!,
Kayak,
The Smiths,
Liliput,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Buckinghams,
Wire,
Connie Case,
Trumans Water,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rites of Spring,
Neil Young,
Franke,
The Gories,
Bootsy Collins,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Flag,
Zapp,
The Alarm Clocks,
Clear Light,
Avey Tare,
The Fuzztones,
Black Pus,
H. Thieme,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mad Mike,
Fela Kuti,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Nils Olav,
Organ,
Infiniti,
Severed Heads,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eurythmics,
Sight & Sound,
Gerry Rafferty,
Wings,
Sun Ra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Magma,
Darondo,
Black Sheep,
Simply Red,
The Searchers,
The Leaves,
Soul Sonic Force,
Faraquet,
Slick Rick,
Shuggie Otis,
Alice Coltrane,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Talk Talk,
Camberwell Now,
Dave Gahan,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Unwound,
Janne Schatter,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.