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 Ukraine and from Copenhagen.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bootsy Collins to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
Second Layer,
U.S. Maple,
Marmalade,
Minnie Riperton,
New York Dolls,
Metal Thangz,
OOIOO,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Supertramp,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joy Division,
Marcia Griffiths,
David McCallum,
Boz Scaggs,
The Star Department,
Yaz,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun Ra,
Fela Kuti,
The United States of America,
Angry Samoans,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kaleidoscope,
Procol Harum,
Vainqueur,
Smog,
World's Most,
Ponytail,
Robert Görl,
Darondo,
Main Source,
Mandrill,
Yazoo,
Ronan,
AZ,
Royal Trux,
Rekid,
Reuben Wilson,
DJ Style,
The Victims,
The Fugs,
Bush Tetras,
Hashim,
The Wake,
Junior Murvin,
Wolf Eyes,
Joe Finger,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Dead C,
Depeche Mode,
Arab on Radar,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Five Americans,
Camberwell Now,
The Monks,
Inner City,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Durutti Column,
Lebanon Hanover,
Organ,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.