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 Syria and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Milan.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the snare 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 The Sonics to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Porter Ricks,
Prince Buster,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Das Ding,
Marshall Jefferson,
Charles Mingus,
Roxy Music,
Crash Course in Science,
Agitation Free,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kurtis Blow,
The Monochrome Set,
Masters at Work,
A Certain Ratio,
Faust,
Blake Baxter,
Lalo Schifrin,
EPMD,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Black Flag,
Byron Stingily,
Rosa Yemen,
Gerry Rafferty,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Moby Grape,
Pole,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cybotron,
Theoretical Girls,
Pharoah Sanders,
Zero Boys,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Thompson Twins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pere Ubu,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Doors,
Piero Umiliani,
Angry Samoans,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deakin,
The United States of America,
Von Mondo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Flipper,
Sexual Harrassment,
Moebius,
Babytalk,
The Gap Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Misunderstood,
Barry Ungar,
Japan,
Easy Going,
Ornette Coleman,
Neu!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dorothy Ashby,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.