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 Venezuela and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Malaria! to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
The Gories,
Funkadelic,
Robert Wyatt,
Arcadia,
Joyce Sims,
the Slits,
Brand Nubian,
Tommy Roe,
Kerrie Biddell,
Aaron Thompson,
The Mojo Men,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Excepter,
Animal Collective,
Suburban Knight,
DJ Sneak,
Soul II Soul,
Joe Finger,
Marc Almond,
Basic Channel,
Judy Mowatt,
Metal Thangz,
Simply Red,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cal Tjader,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Soft Cell,
The Slits,
Harpers Bizarre,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Walker Brothers,
Mad Mike,
Archie Shepp,
Wings,
KRS-One,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pantaleimon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Monks,
Oblivians,
Ornette Coleman,
Roger Hodgson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Barracudas,
Marine Girls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Susan Cadogan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Neon Judgement,
Althea and Donna,
June Days,
Deadbeat,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Goldenarms,
Hoover,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Kinks,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.