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 Bahrain and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Victims to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Techniques. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eli Mardock,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Khruangbin,
The Doors,
Matthew Bourne,
ABC,
Nik Kershaw,
The Searchers,
Prince Buster,
David Bowie,
Minnie Riperton,
The Divine Comedy,
Depeche Mode,
Simply Red,
John Coltrane,
Vainqueur,
Yusef Lateef,
Funkadelic,
Morten Harket,
Clear Light,
The Velvet Underground,
Dave Gahan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mark Hollis,
The Gories,
Gil Scott Heron,
Curtis Mayfield,
June of 44,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pulsallama,
EPMD,
John Lydon,
Bronski Beat,
Second Layer,
The Knickerbockers,
Robert Wyatt,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gang of Four,
Heaven 17,
Wasted Youth,
The Dead C,
Cecil Taylor,
Interpol,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Soul Sonic Force,
Iggy Pop,
Harry Pussy,
Absolute Body Control,
Steve Hackett,
The Misunderstood,
Fear,
D'Angelo,
Rosa Yemen,
Letta Mbulu,
Amon Düül,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Underground Resistance,
The Cowsills,
The Associates,
Gong,
Pussy Galore,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.