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 Equatorial Guinea and from Paris.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Heaven 17 to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bizarre Inc.,
Shoche,
Hoover,
Sparks,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Star Department,
Gastr Del Sol,
Audionom,
Amon Düül II,
The Toasters,
Cheater Slicks,
Johnny Clarke,
Tim Buckley,
Kayak,
Eden Ahbez,
Youth Brigade,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Black Pus,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Sonics,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Fall,
John Lydon,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Cecil Taylor,
Jeru the Damaja,
Howard Jones,
Sandy B,
Scratch Acid,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fluxion,
In Retrospect,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Drexciya,
The Cramps,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Man Parrish,
Fatback Band,
Cal Tjader,
Metal Thangz,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bang On A Can,
The Mummies,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Dave Clark Five,
Letta Mbulu,
These Immortal Souls,
The Dead C,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eve St. Jones,
Monolake,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Byron Stingily,
Ice-T,
The Neon Judgement,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Negative Approach,
Anakelly,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.