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 Lagos.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Gang Gang Dance to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Leonard Cohen,
Von Mondo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Electric Prunes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Mr. Review,
The Tremeloes,
Mad Mike,
Tom Boy,
Jandek,
Mo-Dettes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rapeman,
Roy Ayers,
Sugar Minott,
The Seeds,
Eve St. Jones,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hoover,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lee Hazlewood,
Laurel Aitken,
Quando Quango,
The Gladiators,
Avey Tare,
Hot Snakes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Suicide,
The Slits,
T. Rex,
John Holt,
Nik Kershaw,
Kerri Chandler,
Negative Approach,
Con Funk Shun,
D'Angelo,
Grey Daturas,
Rekid,
Siglo XX,
Prince Buster,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Tubeway Army,
New Order,
Rosa Yemen,
Neil Young,
Albert Ayler,
Pantaleimon,
ABC,
Simply Red,
Aural Exciters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mars,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Walker Brothers,
Todd Terry,
The Star Department,
Magazine,
Spoonie Gee,
Qualms,
Little Man,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.