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 Korea South and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Judy Mowatt to the rock 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lower 48 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
The Moody Blues,
Swans,
Amazonics,
Cluster,
Panda Bear,
Spandau Ballet,
Gang Starr,
Procol Harum,
Radio Birdman,
Hardrive,
Ten City,
Theoretical Girls,
Andrew Hill,
The Knickerbockers,
DJ Sneak,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lightning Bolt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wings,
Rites of Spring,
Kaleidoscope,
Los Fastidios,
Symarip,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jeff Lynne,
Loose Ends,
Gichy Dan,
Con Funk Shun,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Bananas,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jeff Mills,
Delta 5,
The Velvet Underground,
FM Einheit,
Pagans,
Skriet,
Trumans Water,
Chris & Cosey,
Niagra,
Sister Nancy,
Drexciya,
Lee Hazlewood,
Neu!,
Depeche Mode,
Pylon,
The Standells,
Swell Maps,
Faust,
David Bowie,
the Slits,
The Fire Engines,
Schoolly D,
Liliput,
Organ,
Flamin' Groovies,
Oblivians,
Television,
The Zeros,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.