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 Spain and from Seoul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 B.T. Express to the disco 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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
FM Einheit,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sister Nancy,
Stereo Dub,
Cecil Taylor,
The Monks,
Harry Pussy,
Fat Boys,
Amon Düül,
Black Pus,
EPMD,
The Leaves,
Ralphi Rosario,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Rites of Spring,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Peter & Gordon,
Alice Coltrane,
The Residents,
The Saints,
Kerrie Biddell,
Masters at Work,
Lou Christie,
Neu!,
Negative Approach,
Wire,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Fania All-Stars,
Althea and Donna,
ABBA,
Whodini,
Vainqueur,
Ultravox,
Donny Hathaway,
Underground Resistance,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Durutti Column,
Magazine,
Jeru the Damaja,
Procol Harum,
Malaria!,
Danielle Patucci,
New York Dolls,
The Misunderstood,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Nation of Ulysses,
Con Funk Shun,
The Smiths,
Pere Ubu,
The Tremeloes,
Tomorrow,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Camouflage,
The J.B.'s,
Inner City,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Suicide,
Alton Ellis,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.