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 East Timor and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Metal Thangz to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & John Cale,
T. Rex,
Black Pus,
Reuben Wilson,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fugs,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lindisfarne,
The Names,
Black Sheep,
Henry Cow,
Nas,
Von Mondo,
Roger Hodgson,
Magma,
Cheater Slicks,
Warsaw,
Qualms,
Ten City,
Jawbox,
Carl Craig,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Unwound,
Public Image Ltd.,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pantaleimon,
Loose Ends,
Scientists,
Make Up,
Bronski Beat,
The Shadows of Knight,
Delta 5,
Girls At Our Best!,
Man Parrish,
Trumans Water,
Sugar Minott,
Excepter,
Janne Schatter,
John Lydon,
The Real Kids,
Section 25,
Hashim,
Drive Like Jehu,
Organ,
Scratch Acid,
Moby Grape,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Arcadia,
The Gap Band,
Das Ding,
Heaven 17,
Crispy Ambulance,
Index,
Max Romeo,
Amazonics,
JFA,
The Busters,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang Starr,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kevin Saunderson,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.