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 Moldova and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe 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 Blancmange to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Yaz. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Names,
U.S. Maple,
CMW,
Amon Düül,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Shuggie Otis,
Stiv Bators,
Eli Mardock,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Matthew Bourne,
Circle Jerks,
Pantytec,
Japan,
Tres Demented,
Pussy Galore,
Man Parrish,
Camberwell Now,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sandy B,
T. Rex,
Sarah Menescal,
Yellowson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Arthur Verocai,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Organ,
Tears for Fears,
Godley & Creme,
Mark Hollis,
La Düsseldorf,
Ultravox,
10cc,
Eve St. Jones,
Gregory Isaacs,
EPMD,
The Leaves,
Harmonia,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Arab on Radar,
Delta 5,
Bang On A Can,
Average White Band,
Marine Girls,
Eric Dolphy,
Quando Quango,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Grass Roots,
Absolute Body Control,
Ossler,
Sixth Finger,
The J.B.'s,
Nico,
Quantec,
Dual Sessions,
Shoche,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kayak,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.