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 Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Clear Light to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Maurizio,
Harmonia,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cheater Slicks,
the Slits,
Subhumans,
Outsiders,
Television Personalities,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Godley & Creme,
Shuggie Otis,
Deakin,
Little Man,
Eric B and Rakim,
Grey Daturas,
China Crisis,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Neu!,
Adolescents,
Hot Snakes,
The Residents,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Invisible,
Fluxion,
Second Layer,
Pole,
Judy Mowatt,
Heaven 17,
The Associates,
Alphaville,
The Birthday Party,
Sparks,
Mission of Burma,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moody Blues,
Whodini,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Slick Rick,
Model 500,
Rotary Connection,
Warren Ellis,
Blancmange,
Suburban Knight,
The Gories,
Bobby Sherman,
Eden Ahbez,
Tears for Fears,
Faust,
Barclay James Harvest,
Roy Ayers,
48th St. Collective,
kango's stein massive,
New York Dolls,
Matthew Bourne,
Reuben Wilson,
Kas Product,
Royal Trux,
Absolute Body Control,
Panda Bear,
The Mummies,
The Doobie Brothers,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.