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 Turkmenistan 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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Lou Reed 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 Lebanon Hanover to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
The Sound,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fat Boys,
The Neon Judgement,
Robert Hood,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
New Age Steppers,
Lyres,
Visage,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rapeman,
Marc Almond,
Spandau Ballet,
Idris Muhammad,
Boredoms,
Parry Music,
Arab on Radar,
Hoover,
Ornette Coleman,
Camouflage,
Boogie Down Productions,
Donny Hathaway,
Wings,
Stetsasonic,
EPMD,
The Associates,
Crispy Ambulance,
Zapp,
Liliput,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jeff Lynne,
Buzzcocks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Laurel Aitken,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Au Pairs,
Monks,
PIL,
Aswad,
Brand Nubian,
The Kinks,
cv313,
Vladislav Delay,
The Young Rascals,
Hardrive,
Audionom,
Alison Limerick,
Black Pus,
OOIOO,
Maleditus Sound,
Drexciya,
Los Fastidios,
Suicide,
Neil Young,
Eric Dolphy,
Minutemen,
Kayak,
Kurtis Blow,
Blossom Toes,
The Cramps,
The Cowsills,
Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free.
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.