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 Sweden and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Taipei.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Swell Maps to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Grey Daturas,
The Offenders,
Sugar Minott,
Little Man,
Intrusion,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lungfish,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sun City Girls,
Public Enemy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Joe Smooth,
The Velvet Underground,
Donald Byrd,
Cluster,
Graham Central Station,
Pylon,
Rhythm & Sound,
PIL,
Cal Tjader,
Agent Orange,
Alphaville,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pharoah Sanders,
Letta Mbulu,
Spandau Ballet,
Quadrant,
The Litter,
Average White Band,
The Sound,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stetsasonic,
Tommy Roe,
Trumans Water,
Morten Harket,
The Gladiators,
The Five Americans,
Siglo XX,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Goldenarms,
Swell Maps,
Eric Copeland,
Niagra,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Fugs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Todd Rundgren,
Eurythmics,
OOIOO,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
F. McDonald,
Don Cherry,
Thompson Twins,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Cale,
Mark Hollis,
Crooked Eye,
Yaz,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.