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 Botswana and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MDC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Pole,
Camberwell Now,
World's Most,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grey Daturas,
The Electric Prunes,
Unrelated Segments,
Deakin,
The Grass Roots,
The Gun Club,
Amon Düül,
Byron Stingily,
The Dirtbombs,
The Barracudas,
Sonny Sharrock,
kango's stein massive,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Soft Cell,
Kool Moe Dee,
T.S.O.L.,
Nils Olav,
Simply Red,
Cluster,
The Smoke,
Joy Division,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Suicide,
Rapeman,
Chrome,
David McCallum,
Japan,
Nas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Slave,
Gang Gang Dance,
Be Bop Deluxe,
New York Dolls,
Tubeway Army,
Motorama,
the Human League,
New Order,
Sarah Menescal,
Josef K,
The Doors,
Barrington Levy,
Piero Umiliani,
Soft Machine,
Von Mondo,
One Last Wish,
Spoonie Gee,
Scientists,
Morten Harket,
In Retrospect,
Todd Rundgren,
Lungfish,
Gang of Four,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Talk Talk,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.