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 Niger and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Modern Lovers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Franke,
The Gories,
The Mojo Men,
E-Dancer,
John Lydon,
Wings,
Technova,
ABC,
Camouflage,
This Heat,
Black Pus,
John Coltrane,
Youth Brigade,
Half Japanese,
Spoonie Gee,
James White and The Blacks,
The Walker Brothers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
L. Decosne,
Little Man,
Parry Music,
The Martian,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Trumans Water,
Letta Mbulu,
Nirvana,
New Order,
Procol Harum,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pierre Henry,
the Human League,
The Dead C,
The Litter,
Robert Hood,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Stereo Dub,
Barry Ungar,
Sandy B,
Crash Course in Science,
Rapeman,
Eric Dolphy,
The Divine Comedy,
Inner City,
Aloha Tigers,
MC5,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Kinks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Suicide,
Siglo XX,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minutemen,
Circle Jerks,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.