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 Tanzania and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Swell Maps to the funk 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 The Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The J.B.'s,
The Standells,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Yaz,
Darondo,
Severed Heads,
Henry Cow,
Rekid,
The Index,
Camouflage,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gang Starr,
the Germs,
Sparks,
Derrick Morgan,
The Cure,
OOIOO,
June Days,
Donny Hathaway,
Byron Stingily,
R.M.O.,
T. Rex,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tres Demented,
Second Layer,
Robert Wyatt,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nick Fraelich,
Q and Not U,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pere Ubu,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Fortunes,
Susan Cadogan,
Roxette,
Alton Ellis,
Amon Düül,
Youth Brigade,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Johnny Osbourne,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Angry Samoans,
Lightning Bolt,
Beasts of Bourbon,
K-Klass,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jandek,
Shuggie Otis,
Sarah Menescal,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Audionom,
The Leaves,
Index,
Yusef Lateef,
Theoretical Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Buzzcocks,
Bang On A Can,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.